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LAKE  WINNIPESAUKEE  AND  MOUNT  BELKNAP 


New  England  River  Series 


The  River  of  Broken  Waters: 
The  Merrimack 


The  Romance,  Tradition,  History,  Folklore,  Scenery 
People,  Literature  and  Industry  of  “The 
Busiest  River  in  the  World.” 


By  George  Waldo  Browne 


Author  of  “The  St.  Lawrence  River,”  “The  Far  East 
and  the  New  America,”  “Picturesque  Land,”  Etc. 


Illustrated  by  Frank  Holland  and  Others 


1918 

STANDARD  BOOK  COMPANY 

MANCHESTER,  N.  H. 


New  England  River  Series 


Now  Ready: 

The  River  of  Broken  Waters:  The  Merrimack — 

George  Waldo  Browne. 

In  Preparation:  % 

The  River  of  a Hundred  Waterfalls:  The  Contoo- 
cook — Emma  Burnham  Warne. 

The  Franconian  Gateway:  Region  of  Lost  River — 

Makion  Glendower. 

To  Follow: 

The  Rivrer  of  Romance:  The  Connecticut. 

The  Grand  Highway : The  Horicon  and  Lake  Cham- 
plain. 

The  River  from  the  Frozen  Fountain:  The  Saco. 


(Copyright,  1918,  Geokge  W.  Browne.) 


m 


O’NFILl  library 


MAY  2 1 


Leading  Topics 


Pages 

Romance,  History  and  Scenery  - 5-33 

Boating  Days  on  the  Merrimack  - 34—42 

The  Stone  Age  - --  --  --  - 43-58 

The  Picturesque  Land  ------  52-60 

Literary  Associations  of  the  Merrimack  - - 59-84 

Scenes  Along  the  Picturesque  River  (Insert)  - 81-84 

Mills  of  Manchester  -------  85-92 

At  the  Falls  of  Amoskeag  (Poem)  - - - 97-104 

Pictures  from  a Picture  Land  (Headwaters)  - 105-108 
A Jaunt  Along  the  Lower  River  - 109-130 

Appendix : 

Gone — An  Illustrated  Poem  (Insert) 

Indian  Legends  of  the  Merrimack  - - - - 1-33 


Over  Fifty  Illustrations  and  Inserts. 


From  a painting  by  Frank  Holland 

HON.  SAMUEL  BLODGET 
The  Pioneer  of  Progress  in  the  Merrimack  Valley 


Ct)c  Wfyitt  fountains; 

By  John  Greenleaf  Whittier, 


WHITTIER  has  been  called  the  Poet  of  Freedom, 
He  was  more  than  that ; he  was  the  Poet  of  Nature. 
And  nowhere  has  he  given  us  finer  examples  of 
his  loving  touch  than  in  his  exquisite  pictures  of 
the  Granite  Hills,  with  “their  sentinel  sides  and 
cloud-crowned  brows,”  which  he  painted  in  rare 
word-coloring.  This  was  but  the  natural  expres- 
sion of  the  true  artist,  for  the  mountains  ever  breathe  of  freedom,  and 
their  grandeur  finds  a hearty  appreciation  in  him  who  has  the  sin- 
cere veneration  for  the  deeply  religious  thoughts  they  awaken,  and 
the  divine  lessons  they  teach  to  the  honest  searcher  after  adibing 
truth.  In  the  following  beautiful  verses  our  Poet  most  happily  ex- 
emplified his  masterful  genius.—  Editor. 


pRAY  searcher  of  the  upper  air ! 

There’s  sunshine  on  thy  ancient  walls- 
A crown  upon  thy  forehead  bare — 

A flashing  on  thy  water-falls — 

A rainbow  glory  in  the  cloud, 

Upon  thy  awful  summit  bowed, 

Dim  relic  of  the  recent  storm  ! 

And  music,  from  the  leafy  shroud 
Which  wraps  in  green  thy  giant  form, 

Mellowed  and  softened  from  above, 

Steals  down  upon  the  listening  ear, 


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2 


THE  WHITE  MOUNTAINS 


Sweet  as  the  maiden’s  dream  of  love, 

With  soft  tones  melting  on  her  ear. 

The  time  has  been,  gray  mountain,  when 
Thy  shadows  veiled  the  red  man’s  home ; 
And  over  crag  and  serpent  den, 

And  wild  gorge,  where  the  steps  of  men 
In  chase  or  battle  might  not  come, 

The  mountain  eagle  bore  on  high 
The  emblem  of  the  free  of  soul ; 

And  midway  in  the  fearful  sky 
Sent  back  the  Indian’s  battle-cry, 

Or  answered  to  the  thunder’s  roll. 

The  wigwam  fires  have  all  burned  out — 

The  moccasin  hath  left  no  track — 

Nor  wolf  nor  wild-deer  roam  about 
The  Saco  or  the  Merrimack. 

And  thou  that  liftest  up  on  high 
Thine  awful  barriers  to  the  sky, 

Art  not  the  haunted  mount  of  old, 

When  on  each  crag  of  blasted  stone 
Some  mountain-spirit  found  a throne, 

And  shrieked  from  out  the  thick  cloud-fold, 
And  answered  to  the  Thunderer’s  cry 
When  rolled  the  cloud  of  tempest  by, 

And  jutting  rock  and  riven  branch 
Went  down  before  the  avalanche. 

The  Father  of  our  people  then 
Upon  thy  awful  summit  trod, 


THE  WHITE  MOUNTAINS 


3 


And  the  red  dwellers  of  the  glen 

Bowed  down  before  the  Indian’s  God. 
There,  when  His  shadow  veiled  the  sky. 

The  Thunderer’s  voice  was  long  and  loud, 
And  the  red  flashes  of  His  eye 

Were  pictured  on  the  o’erhanging  cloud. 

The  Spirit  moveth  there  no  more, 

The  dwellers  of  the  hill  have  gone, 

The  sacred  groves  are  trampled  o’er, 

And  footprints  mar  the  altar-stone. 

The  white  man  climbs  thy  tallest  rock 
And  hangs  him  from  the  mossy  steep, 
Where,  trembling  to  the  cloud-fire’s  shock, 
Thy  ancient  prison-walls  unlock, 

And  captive  waters  leap  to  light, 

And  dancing  down  from  height  to  height, 
Pass  onward  to  the  far-off  deep. 

* Oh,  sacred  to  the  Indian  seer. 

Gray  altar  of  the  days  of  old  ! 

Still  are  thy  rugged  features  dear, 

As  when  unto  my  infant  ear 

The  legends  of  the  past  were  told. 

Tales  of  the  downward  sweeping  flood, 

When  bowed  like  reeds  thy  ancient  wood, — 
Of  armed  hand  and  spectral  form, 

Of  giants  in  their  misty  shroud, 

And  voices  calling  long  and  loud 
In  the  drear  pauses  of  the  storm  ! 


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4 


THE  WHITE  MOUNTAINS 


Farewell ! The  red  man's  face  is  turned 
Toward  another  hunting  ground  ; 

For  where  the  council-fire  has  burned, 

And  o’er  the  sleeping  warrior’s  mound 
Another  fire  is  kindled  now: 

Its  light  is  on  the  white  man’s  brow  ! 

The  hunter  race  has  passed  away — 

Ay,  vanished  like  the  morning  mist, 

Or  dew-drops  by  the  sunshine  kissed, — 
And  wherefore  should  the  red  man  stay  ? 


‘THE  BEAUTY  OF  THE  WILD,  FREE  WOODS  AND  FLOODS” 


Qtty  Merrimack  Ctiber 


The  Romance,  History,  Scenery  and  Industry  of  the  “River 
of  Broken  Waters.” 


j&gf  HE  Merrimack  River  was  a noted  stream  among  the 
aborigines  long  before  the  appearance  of  the  North- 
^ men  upon  the  sedgy  shores  of  Old  Vinland.  Among 
the  traditions  of  the  Abnakis  was  one  of  a “ river  of  broken 
waters,”  expressed  in  their  tongue  in  the  form  of  the  un- 
couth word,  as  it  is  spoken  by  us,  of  Kaskaashadi.  Upon 
its  banks  rival  tribes  had  for  many  generations  contended 
for  the  supremacy.  Another  legend,  told  among  the  Algon- 
quins  of  the  valley  of  the  St.  Lawrence,  was  to  the  effect 
that  beyond  the  “ great  carrying-places”  ran  a swift  river 
filled  with  fish,  and  forever  guarded  at  its  northern  gateway 
by  “an  old  man  with  a stone  face,”  whose  environments 
were  grounds  to  them  too  sacred  to  be  trod  by  warrior  foot. 
As  early  as  1604,  that  adventurous  voyager  from  Old 
France,  Sieur  du  Monts,  wrote  in  his  accounts  of  dis- 
coveries and  settlements  that  the  “ Indians  speak  of  a 
beautiful  stream  far  to  the  south  called  by  them  Merremack .” 
The  first  white  man  who  is  credited  with  having  seen  this 


A silver  band,  the  Merrimack 


Links  mountain  to  the  sea; 
And  as  it  runs  this  story 


It  tells  to  you  and  me. 


— Nellie  M.  Brorwne. 


5 


6 


THE  MERRIMACK  RIVER 


river  was  that  intrepid  explorer  and  pioneer  of  New  France, 
Samuel  de  Champlain,  who,  while  sailing  along  the  coast  of 
New  England  in  the  summer  of  1605,  discovered  a river  on 
the  17th  day  of  July,  which  he  named  “The  Riviere  du 
Gaust,”  in  honor  of  his  patron,  Sieur  du  Monts,  who  held  a 
patent  from  the  King  of  France  for  all  of  the  country  to 
the  north  and  east.  This  stream,  discovered  by  Cham- 
plain, has  been  claimed  by  many  to  have  been  the  Merri- 
mack, though  his  own  records  would  seem  to  show  con- 
clusively that  it  was  the  River  Charles.  The  traditions  of 
the  Norsemen,  in  the  Saga  of  Edric,  speak  of  a river  whose 
descriptions  indicate  that  they  saw  the  Merrimack,  but  their 
pages  are  too  vague  to  be  accepted  without  a doubt.  So 
the  name  of  the  first  European  to  gaze  upon  its  swift  waters 
has  not  been  recorded  beyond  dispute. 

According  to  the  practice  of  a people  without  a written 
language,  several  names  were  given  the  river  by  the  abo- 
rigines, each  denoting  some  particular  feature  of  that 
section.  The  following  are  among  the  best  known,  with 
their  primitive  derivations  : 

First  “ The  Merrimack,”  which  has  outlived  the  others, 
from  menu,  swift ; asquam,  water;  ack  or  auke , place  ; that 
is,  “swift  water  place.”  In  the  pronunciation  of  this  word 
or  phrase  the  syllables  “ asquam”  became  abbreviated  to  the 
sound  of  one  letter — “m.”  This  seems  to  have  been  a 
frequent  practice  among  the  Amerinds,  which  many  writers 
have  explained  erroneously  by  saying  that  a letter  or  sound 
had  been  “thrown  in  for  euphony’s  sake.”  An  uneducated 
people  may  curtail  an  expression,  but  they  never  add  any- 
thing for  effect.  This  name  was  probably  applied  originally 
to  that  portion  of  the  river  between  Garvin’s  Falls  in  Bow, 
N.  H.,  and  Pawtucket  Falls  at  Lowell,  Mass. 

Another  term,  which  has  already  been  mentioned,  and 
was  probably  applied  to  the  section  first  named,  was  that  of 
Kaskaashadi,  in  its  completeness  meant  literally  “ the  place 
of  broken  water.” 


SAMUEL  De  CHAMPLAIN. 

From  the  O’Niel  copy  of  the  Hamel  Painting. 


THE  MERRIMACK  RIVER 


7 


Another  designation  applied,  says  Judge  Potter,  to 
that  part  of  the  river  extending  from  Turkey  Falls  in  Bow 
to  the  Souhegan  River  in  Merrimack,  N.  H.,  was  Namas- 
ket.  This  was  derived  from  names , fish  ; kees}  high ; et , a 
place  ; that  is,  “high  fish  place,”  or  “high  place  for  fish.” 
This  word  has  been  spelled  as  many  as  fifty  different  ways, 
its  easiest  transition  being  from  Namasket  to  Namoaskeag, 
to  e Amoskeag,  which  survives  as  the  name  of  the  highest 
falls  of  the  river. 

On  account  of  the  great  number  of  sturgeons  to  be 
found  at  certain  periods  of  the  year,  the  river  was  also  called 
Cabassauk : from  cabass , a sturgeon  ; auk , place ; that  is, 
“place  of  the  sturgeon.”  Dr.  Drew  gives  the  orthography 
of  this  word  as  cobbossee.  This  term  was  also  applied  to  a 
portion  of  the  Kennebec  River. 

Certain  places  of  the  river  where  the  waters  ran  more 
gently  were  known  as  Wampineauk  : from  wampi,  clear  or 
sunny ; nebe,  water ; auk,  place  ; that  is,  “ place  of  clear 
water,”  or,  as  we  might  say,  “sunny  river.” 

Yet  another  poetical  designation  was  that  of  Moniack  : 
from  mona , island ; ack,  place ; that  is,  “ place  of  the 
islands.”  This  name  was  given  the  stream  toward  its 
mouth,  though  the  poet  makes  it  extend  to  greater  limits : 

“ Deep  in  the  vale  old  Moniack  rolls  his  Tides, 

Romantic  prospects  crown  his  reverend  Sides  ; 

And  thro’  wrild  Grotts  and  pendent  Woods  he  strays, 

And  ravished  at  the  sight,  his  Course  delays. 

Silent  and  calm — now  with  impetuous  shock 

Pours  his  swift  Torrent  down  the  impetuous  Rock ; 

The  tumbling  waves  thro’  airy  channels  flow, 

And  loudly  roaring,  smoke  and  foam  below.” 

There  is  no  doubt  that  the  Indians  had  a strong  at- 
tachment for  this  river,  which  afforded  them  such  good 
facilities  for  fishing,  and  whose  wooded  banks  were  retreats 
for  the  deer  and  other  four-footed  denizens  of  the  wild- 
woods.  Thus  it  became  the  debatable  ground  between  rival 
tribes  of  the  warriors  of  the  wilderness.  In  this  valley 
was  fought  many  a sanguinary  battle  by  the  Mohawks  and 
the  Abnakis,  and  by  both  against  the  more  peaceful  Pena- 


8 


THE  MERRIMACK  RIVER 


cooks.  Upon  the  “brave  lands”  just  above  where  the  city 
of  Concord,  N.  H.,  now  stands,  the  last-named  met  their 
Waterloo,  though  so  desperately  and  effectually  did  they 
make  their  final  defense  that  it  does  not  appear  as  if  their 
long-time  enemies  rallied  to  renew  the  war  against  them. 
This  great  battle,  or  series  of  battles,  with  possibly  one  ex- 
ception, another  contest  waged  by  the  Mohawks  against  the 
Sokokis,  was  the  most  sublime  ever  fought  by  the  natives 
in  early  New  England.  It  seems  to  have  taken  place  about 
fifty  years  before  the  advent  of  the  Pilgrims  at  Plymouth 
Rock. 

One  of  the  consequences  was  the  removal  of  the  chief 
lodgment  of  the  Penacooks  to  the  smooth  bluff  overlooking 
the  Merrimack  within  sight  of  Amoskeag  Falls.  From  here, 
a few  years  later,  their  sachem,  the  noble  Passaconnaway, 
formed  his  seat  of  government  at  Pawtucket.  It  was  here 
Eliot  found  him,  and,  converted  to  Christianity,  the  saga- 
more counseled  peace  towards  the  whites  among  his  fol- 
lowers. It  is  possible  that  the  chief  may  have  considered 
this  the  only  safe  policy,  as  in  addition  to  the  disasters  of  a 
long  warfare  with  the  enemy  from  the  West,  his  people  had 
been  greatly  reduced  in  numbers  through  the  ravages  of  a 
terrible  disease  which  had  swept  over  the  aboriginal  tribes 
of  New  England  a short  time  before  the  coming  of  the 
Europeans,  but  there  was  nothing  in  his  whole  course  of 
action  to  throw  suspicion  upon  his  sincerity.  Among  the 
prominent  leaders  of  his  unfortunate  race  he  stands  as  one 
of  Nature’s  noblemen,  and  his  influence  upon  his  followers 
was  of  lasting  good  to  the  English.  The  fate  of  this 
sachem  is  involved  in  conjecture,  as  no  one  knew  where  or 
when  he  disappeared  from  the  scene  of  action,  though  it 
was  not  until  he  had  lived  more  than  a hundred  years.  There 
is  a tradition,  very  vague  and  uncertain  for  even  a tra- 
dition, that  says  he  sought,  when  he  felt  that  his  end  was 
near,  the  shore  of  Lake  Massabesic,  and  entering  his  frail 
canoe  drifted  out  over  the  placid  water  to  return  no  more. 


THE  INDIAN  CHIEF.  PASSACONA WAY. 
Statue  in  Edson  Cemetery,  Lowell,  Mass. 


THE  MERRIMACK  RIVER 


9 


What  a picturesque  sight  was  presented  by  the  tall,  erect 
figure  of  this  aged  chieftain,  standing  upright  in  the  centre 
of  his  fragile  craft,  while  it  was  slowly  wafted  by  the  rip- 
pling tide  away  from  the  pine-fronded  landscape  which 
swiftly  vanished  before  the  incoming  of  the  pale-faces,  but 
whose  going  out  was  slower  than  the  disappearance  of  that 
race  of  which  he  was  a grand  representative. 

Passaconnaway  was  succeeded  by  his  son  Wannalan- 
cet,  who  proved  worthy  to  wear  the  mantle  of  his  proud 
father.  After  a few  years  he  departed  from  the  Merrimack 
valley  with  the  remnant  of  his  tribe  to  join  the  Indians 
from  Maine  and  elsewhere  who  had  sought  the  protection 
of  the  French  at  the  missionary  settlement  of  St.  Francis, 
in  New  France.  There  is  nothing  to  show  that  these 
warriors,  to  any  extent,  aided  the  French  in  their  move- 
ments against  the  English.  Wannalancet  himself  soon  re- 
turned to  visit  the  scenes  of  his  earlier  life,  where  he  finally 
died  and  was  buried,  it  is  believed,  in  the  private  cemetery 
of  the  Tyng  family,  in  the  present  town  of  Tyngsboro, 
Mass.  It  is  pleasant  to  note  that  the  Massachusetts 
Society  of  Colonial  Dames  have  placed  upon  one  of  the 
boulders  lying  near  the  colonial  mansion  house  occupied  by 
Colonel  Jonathan  Tyng,  where  the  last  of  the  Penacook 
sachems  passed  his  closing  years,  a memorial  tablet  properly 
inscribed.  In  the  Edson  cemetery  of  Lowell  is  a statue 
with  granite  base  erected  to  the  memory  of  his  father, 
Passaconnaway. 

Though  a solitary  red  man,  from  time  to  time,  returned 
to  look  with  mournful  gaze  upon  the  disappearing  forests  of 
his  forefathers  as  late  as  1750,  without  grievous  license 
years  before  this  the  poet  could  exclaim  : 

“ By  thy  fair  stream 

The  red  man  roams  no  more.  No  more  he  snares 

The  artful  trout,  or  lordly  salmons  spear  ; 

No  more  his  swift- winged  arrow  strikes  the  deer.” 

The  foremost  of  that  race  which  was  to  prove  the  con- 
querors of  his  people  settled  in  the  Merrimack  valley  seven 


10 


THE  MERRIMACK  RIVER 


years  after  the  landing  of  the  Pilgrims  at  Plymouth. 
While  springing  from  the  same  source  as  the  other  colony, 
this  band  was  ushered  in  upon  the  primeval  scene  under 
more  favorable  auspices,  and  was  destined  to  become  more 
prosperous  and  far-reaching  in  its  enterprises.  While  the 
former  was  composed  of  men  who  had  never  enjoyed  the 
advantages  of  wealth  and  opulence,  but  were  of  austere 
principle,  among  these  last  came  some  of  the  best  blood  of 
England.  They  were  men  of  education,  talent,  good 
standing,  who  had  been  able  to  obtain  official  recognition 
from  the  Court  of  London  at  the  outset.  Having  associ- 
ated themselves  together  as  “ The  Massachusetts  Colony,” 
their  charter  granted  March  19,  1627-8,  by  the  Royal  Coun- 
cil, fixed  their  boundary  as  all  of  that  “part  of  New  Eng- 
land, in  America,  which  lyes  and  extends  between  a great 
river  there  commonly  called  ‘ Monoack’  alias  ‘ Meremack,’ 
& a certain  other  river  called  Charles  river,  being  in  the 
bottom  of  a certain  bay  here  commonly  called  Massachu- 
setts bay  & also  all  and  singular  those  lands  and  heredita- 
ments whatsoever  lying  within  the  space  of  three  English 
miles  on  the  south  part  of  said  Charles  River,  &c.  And 
also  all  & singular  the  lands  and  hereditaments  whatsoever 
which  lye,  & be  within  the  space  of  three  English  miles  to 
the  Northward  of  said  river  called  ‘ Monomack,’  alias 
* Merrymack,’  or  to  the  northward  of  any  and  every  part 
thereof : And  all  lands  & c lying  within  the  limit  aforesaid 
from  the  Atlantic  Ocean  to  the  South  Sea.” 

Vague  and  imperfect  as  this  boundary  must  appear  to 
the  careful  reader,  it  proved  too  misleading  to  safeguard  the 
interests  of  the  colonists  settled  in  the  territory  named,  and 
for  many  years  the  boundary  line  was  a “ bone  of  conten- 
tion” between  certain  factions  that  came  into  existence  in 
the  provinces.  It  was  taken  for  granted  at  this  period  that 
the  Merrimack  came  from  the  west  its  entire  course. 

Among  the  immigrants  attracted  to  the  new  country 
only  ten  years  after  the  beginning  of  the  colonization  was  a 


THE  FRENCH  FLAG  IN  THE  TIME  OF  CHAMPLAIN 


THE  MERRIMACK  RIVER 


11 


little  company  of  farmers,  smiths,  carpenters,  and  weavers, 
counting  sixty  families,  who  came  from  Western  England  in 
1637,  and  builded  a cluster  of  homes  in  Rowley,  Mass. 
While  the  husbandmen  busied  themselves  about  their 
clearings  in  the  wilderness,  the  smiths  and  carpenters 
erected  a mill,  and  here  the  weavers  wove  the  first  cotton 
cloth  in  the  colonies. 

As  early  as  this  the  colonists  began  to  complain  that 
they  were  “straitened  for  want  of  land.”  Hubbard,  the 
historian  of  those  times,  says  that  Ipswich  was  so  overrun 
with  people  that  they  swarmed  to  other  places.  Out  of  the 
demand  for  “further  farms”  came  an  order  from  the  Massa- 
chusetts courts  in  1638  to  explore  the  Merrimack  River  to 
its  source,  supposed  to  have  been  fixed  by  the  charter  given 
the  company.  This,  the  first  survey  of  the  Merrimack 
River,  was  made  by  a man  named  Woodward,  with  four 
companions,  one  of  whom  was  an  Indian,  and  another  a 
youth  of  fifteen,  who  was  the  author  of  the  first  map  of  the 
region  explored  in  the  autumn  of  1638.  The  young  map- 
maker  was  named  John  Gardner,  and  the  brave  little  party 
which  he  accompanied  penetrated  the  trackless  wilderness 
of  the  Merrimack  valley  nearly  as  far  as  Lake  Winnepesau- 
kee.  Upon  this  survey  were  based  the  calculations  of  that 
better  known  and  more  permanent  work  performed  by  a 
commission  appointecl  by  the  Massachusetts  courts  in  1652. 
This  was  composed  of  Captain  Symon  Willard  and  Captain 
Edward  Johnson,  both  men  of  prominence  in  those  days, 
the  latter  being  the  author  of  “ Wonder  Working  Provi- 
dence of  Zion’s  Savior  in  New  England.”  These  commis- 
sioners selected  as  assistants,  Jonathan  Ince,  a graduate  of 
Harvard  College  only  two  years  before,  and  John  Sherman, 
a surveyor  of  note,  and  great-grandfather  of  Roger  Sher- 
man, one  of  the  signers  of  the  Declaration  of  Indepen- 
dence. While  there  is  a doubt  expressed  as  to  whether  the 
first  commission  really  reached  the  headwaters  of  the  Merri- 
mack, and  its  bounds  were  only  claimed  to  have  been 


12 


THE  MERRIMACK  RIVER 


marked  by  a spotted  tree,  Captain  Willard’s  party  left  a very 
substantial  monument  of  their  work  in  what  has  become 
known  as  “Endicott  Rock,”  which  stands  at  the  Weirs,  in 
the  town  of  Laconia,  preserved  and  protected  by  a special 
appropriation  from  the  state  of  New  Hampshire. 

Upon  reaching  the  forks  of  the  Pemigewassett  and 
Winnepesaukee  rivers,  which  unite  their  offerings  brought 
from  mountain  and  lake  to  form  the  Merrimack,  the  com- 
missioners were  doubtful  as  to  the  true  stream  for  them  to 
follow.  They  referred  the  matter  to  the  Indians,  who  de- 
clared that  the  real  Merrimack  was  the  easterly  branch 
flowing  from  “ the  beautiful  lake  of  the  highlands.”  If  this 
was  the  conclusion  of  the  aboriginal  inhabitants  of  the 
country,  the  westerly  fork  is  none  the  less  deserving  of  de- 
scription, and  certainly  has  a good  claim  to  being  considered 
a part  of  the  main  river.  Its  source  is  a sheet  of  crystal 
water  springing  from  the  heart  of  the  White  Hills,  far  up 
on  the  eastern  slope  of  what  is  still  an  unexplored  wilder- 
ness. Running  around  natural  barriers  strewn  along  its 
pathway  by  a prodigal  hand,  this  mountain  rivulet  pursues 
its  lonely  course  for  a few  miles,  when  it  is  joined  by 
another  stream,  which  is  also  the  outlet  of  a beautiful  lake- 
let.  Now  one  this  happy  twain  leap  cascades,  dash  around 
boulders,  loiter  in  cool  retreats,  overhung  by  leafy  bowers, 
fit  retreats  for  the  naiads  of  the  forest  fastness,  receiving 
tributary  after  tributary  until  it  has  increased  in  volume 
and  becomes  dignified  by  the  name  of  “ river.”  For  forty 
miles  it  flows  through  massive  gateways,  shut  in  by  moun- 
tain walls  that  lift  high  their  granite  fronts  in  a country 
wild  and  picturesque  almost  beyond  the  power  of  descrip- 
tion, when,  at  the  foot  of  the  famous  Franconia  Notch,  it 
suddenly  bursts  into  sunlight  and  into  the  world  dazzled  and 
dazzling. 

In  its  bewildering  career  it  has  scaled  “Grand  Falls,” 
rightly  named  as  the  most  magnificent  waterfall  in  New 
England ; it  has  run  the  gantlet  of  that  stupendous 


WHERE  THE  ROCKS  ARE  FRINGED  WITH  SNOWY  LACEWORK." 


THE  MERRIMACK  RIVER 


13 


gorge  known  as  “The  Flume;”  flies  the  frown  of  “The 
Old  Man  of  the  Mountains and  fringes  with  snowy  lace- 
work  the  rim  of  “Agassiz  Basin,”  said  by  the  red  men  to 
have  been  the  bathing  pool  where  the  goddess  of  the  moun- 
tains sought  seclusion  in  the  days  when  the  gods  wed  with 
the  daughters  of  m,en.  This  branch  of  the  Merrimack, 
the  Pemigewasset,  passes  through  or  touches  and  drains  in 
part  or  all,  over  thirty  towns,  an  area  of  nearly  nine  hun- 
dred square  miles. 

The  Pemigewasset  is  joined  just  above  Plymouth  vil- 
lage by  the  historic  stream  known  as  Baker’s  River,  so 
named  in  honor  of  Captain  Thomas  Baker  of  Northamp- 
ton, Mass.,  who  penetrated  into  this  region  with  a scouting 
party  in  the  summer  of  1719  or  1720.  Near  the  junction 
of  this  stream  and  the  Pemigewasset  Captain  Baker  and  his 
men  had  a short  but  sharp  fight  with  a body  of  Indians 
hunting  in  that  vicinity.  Though  repulsing  the  red  men  in 
the  opening  battle  the  whites,  acting  under  the  advice  of 
their  guide,  a friendly  Indian,  beat  a retreat  towards  the 
Connecticut  River,  which  they  had  ascended  in  reaching 
this  country.  Another  border  incident,  worthy  of  note, 
was  the  surprise  and  capture  by  Indians  of  John  Stark, 
afterwards  of  Revolutionary  fame,  but  then  a young  man 
hunting  for  pelts  ^ith  three  companions,  one  of  whom 
named  William  Stinson  was  killed,  one  escaped,  while  the 
third  was  taken  captive  with  Stark.  In  the  days  of 
aboriginal  occupancy  of  the  country  by  the  Amerinds 
this  river,  known  to  them  as  “ winding  waters,”  was  a 
noted  trail  followed  by  many  a hunting  party  and  bands  of 
warriors  in  their  transit  between  the  valley  of  the  Merri- 
mack and  the  northern  country.  The  north  branch  of  this 
river,  for  like  most  of  these  mountain  streams  it  is  formed 
of  two  forks,  has  its  source  in  the  Moosehillock  heights, 
from  whence  it  flows  through  Warren  to  join  its  mate  com- 
ing from  the  west,  continuing  southerly  through  Rumney 
and  a section  of  Plymouth.  It  is  thirty  miles  in  length. 


14 


THE  MERRIMACK  RIVER 


The  eastern  branch  of  the  Merrimack,  known  by  the 
name  of  the  beautiful  “lake  of  the  highlands,”  which  is  its 
source,  drains  in  part  or  entirely  fifteen  towns  and  with  the 
lake  receives  the  drainage  of  over  560  square  miles.  It  has 
a descent  of  235  feet  before  joining  the  Pemigewasset  at 
Franklin,  and  affords  excellent  water  privileges.  It  flows 
between  Laconia  and  Gilford,  forms  that  beautiful  sheet  of 
water,  Lake  Winnesquam,  divides  Tilton  and  Belmont,  cuts 
off  a corner  of  Northfield  and  another  of  Tilton  before  los- 
ing its  identity  in  uniting  with  its  sister  stream  to  form  the 
true  Merrimack. 

The  principal  tributaries  of  the  Merrimack  call  for  the 
mention  of  the  Contoocook  River,  which  rises  near  the 
Massachusetts  line,  and  after  flowing  in  a northerly  course 
for  about  eighty  miles  empties  into  the  Merrimack  at  Pen- 
acook.  This  stream  affords  excellent  water  privileges  at 
Jaffrey,  Peterborough  Harrisville  on  the  Nubemensit, 
Bennington,  Antrim,  Hillsborough,  Henniker,  Contoocook 
and  Penacook,  and  flows  through  thirty-two  towns,  parts  of 
two  states,  five  counties,  and  drains  a territory  of  over 
seven  hundred  square  miles. 

On  the  left  bank  of  the  Merrimack,  as  it  winds  down- 
ward to  the  sea,  the  first  tributary  of  note  is  Turkey  River, 
which  finds  its  source  in  Loudon  and  Gilmanton  and  enters 
the  main  river  just  above  Garvin’s  Falls,  from  whence 
Manchester  Traction,  Light  and  Power  Co.  has  equipped 
one  of  the  best  plants  in  New  England.  This  stream  is  the 
one  down  which  Hannah  Dustin  fled  in  her  canoe  upon  her 
memorable  escape  from  the  Indians  at  that  spot  now 
marked  by  a monument  at  East  Concord. 

Another  stream  that  joins  the  Merrimack  a little  below 
is  the  Suncook,  whose  name  in  the  Indian  tongue  meant 
“place  of  the  loon.”  The  true  source  of  this  river  is  a 
pond  in  Gilford  and  Gilmanton,  from  whence  it  flows  in  a 
southerly  direction  for  about  thirty  miles,  receiving  the 
waters  of  several  other  ponds  on  its  way,  among  them  the 


* 


THE  MERRIMACK  RIVER 


15 


Suncook  Pond  in  Northwood,  and  Pleasant  Pond  in  Deer- 
field. It  drains  a basin  of  one  hundred  and  thirty  miles, 
and  has  a utilized  capacity  of  over  three  thousand  horse 
power. 

The  next  in  order,  but  entering  upon  the  right  bank 
less  than  a mile  below  the  falls  of  Amoskeag,  is  the  Piscat- 
aquog  River,  which  has  its  principal  source  in  the  southern 
part  of  Henniker  and  the  northwesterly  section  of  Deer- 
ing.  This  stream  flows  in  a southeasterly  direction,  and 
its  rapid  current  affords  considerable  motive  power  for  ma- 
chinery. 

Just  below  the  mouth  of  this  tributary,  and  entering 
upon  the  opposite  bank,  the  Cohas  brook,  which  flows  in  a 
westerly  course  for  about  five  miles,  joins  the  Merrimack 
at  Goffe’s  Falls,  furnishing  at  this  bustling  village  the 
power  for  the  mills  located  here.  If  brief  in  its  career  this 
stream  is  the  outlet  of  the  largest  body  of  water  in  south- 
ern New  Hampshire,  Lake  Massabesic,  famous  in  the  days 
of  the  aborigines  as  the  best  fishing  ground  in  this  vicinity, 
and  noted  now  as  a summer  resort.  Many  an  Indian  le- 
gend clusters  about  this  charming  and  picturesque  lake, 
known  to  them  in  their  romantic  associations  as  “ the  eyes 
of  the  sky.” 

Next  in  importance  is  the  Souhegan,  having  its  source 
in  a pond  in  Ashburnham,  Mass.,  and  after  flowing  north- 
erly for  thirty-five  miles  joins  the  Merrimack  in  a town  by 
the  name  of  the  latter  river.  It  drains  in  whole  or  part  of 
eleven  towns  and  an  area  of  one  hundred  and  fifty  thous- 
and acres  of  country.  Its  power  affords  life  for  the  manu- 
factories of  New  Ipswich,  Greenville,  Wilton,  Milford  and 
Merrimack,  all  in  New  Hampshire. 

The  Nashua  River,  which  gives  its  name  to  the  third 
city  in  the  state,  is  another  tributary  which  finds  its  source 
in  the  watershed  of  northern  Massachusetts,  about  midway 
between  Rhode  Island  and  New  Hampshire.  It  follows  a 
northerly  course  until  reaching  the  state  line,  when  it 


16 


THE  MERRIMACK  RIVER 


makes  a sweep  and  runs  for  several  miles  in  an  opposite  di- 
rection to  that  of  the  larger  river  which  receives  its  waters 
at  Nashua.  Next  to  the  Contoocook,  this  is  the  most  im- 
portant tributary  to  the  Merrimack,  and  drains  historic 
ground.  Where  the  truthfulness  of  details  becomes  dim 
and  history  uncertain,  legend  and  tradition  blend,  lending  to 
the  tangible  shadows  of  the  past  the  romance  of  reality. 
This  river  was  beloved  by  the  Indians  ; here  they  fished 
and  hunted  to  their  unbounded  gratification ; here  they 
tilled  their  fields  of  maize  and  melons  ; and  here  they  laid 
their  rude  hearthstones,  held  their  councils  of  primeval 
government,  wooed  their  dusky  mates,  kept  their  festivals, 
and  vanished  before  the  coming  of  the  white  settlers. 
This  river  furnishes  the  power  for  the  mills  of  Fitchburg, 
Clinton,  Shirley  and  Peppered,  Mass.,  and  those  of  Nashua, 
N.  H. 

Salmon  River  is  a smaller  stream  rising  in  Groton, 
Massachusetts,  to  enter  the  Merrimack  a little  above  the 
city  of  Lowell.  Within  this  city  yet  another  river,  if  not 
large  as  it  is  traced  upon  the  map,  yet  great  in  historic  in- 
terest, the  Concord,  formed  of  two  streams  which  unite  in 
the  town  which  gives  it  a name,  finds  the  Merrimack. 
The  Spicket  River,  rising  in  Hampstead  and  Derry,  N.  H., 
flows  southerly  through  Salem  and  Methuen,  where  it  af- 
fords good  water  privileges,  becomes  a tributary  to  the 
Merrimack  at  Lawrence.  Little  River  has  its  source  in 
Plaistow  and  Atkinson,  N.  H.,  to  enter  the  larger  river  at 
Haverhill,  where  it  furnishes  excellent  water  power.  The 
Powow,  immortalized  by  the  poet  of  the  Merrimack,  Whit- 
tier, has  its  source  in  a cluster  of  beautiful  gems  of  water  in 
Kingston,  N.  H.,  flows  through  a corner  of  East  Kingston 
into  South  Hampton,  and  falls  into  the  Merrimack  between 
Amesbury  and  Salisbury,  Mass.,  after  favoring  the  former 
place  with  a fine  water  power.  The  Amesbury  Ferry,  noted 
for  its  Revolutionary  associations,  begins  at  the  rough  stone 
bridge  spanning  the  Powow.  A chain  ferry  in  the  “ days 


“MOORED  ON  ITS  CALM  SURFACE  AN  ISLAND” 


THE  MERRIMACK  RIVER 


IT 


that  tried  men’s  souls  ” found  a terminus  here,  with  a tav- 
ern and  hostelry  for  the  accommodation  of  the  traveller. 
The  old  house  is  still  standing,  an  interesting  relic  of  by 
gone  days,  while  the  road  branches  into  two,  one  leading  in- 
to the  thriving  village  of  Amesbury  Mills,  and  the  other 
seeking  the  north  bank  of  the  Merrimack  winds  up  to  Hav- 
erhill. Washington  crossed  this  ferry  in  1789,  upon  his 
visit  to  New  England,  and  he  stopped  to  rest  at  the  old 
tavern  mentioned.  The  wharf  has  become  grass-grown, 
and  only  a pile  of  stones  carpeted  with  greensward  remains 
to  speak  of  the  primitive  way  of  crossing  the  river. 

Below  the  bustling  manufacturing  town  of  Amesbury, 
which  was  taken  from  Salisbury  in  1668,  there  is  much 
fine  scenery,  and  historic  memories  cluster  about  every 
section  of  the  country.  Salisbury  is  noted  for  its  beautiful 
beach,  and  originally  bore  the  same  name  as  the  river 
which  forms  its  southern  boundary,  the  Merrimack.  It  re- 
ceived its  present  name  in  1640,  having  been  known  for  the 
previous  year  as  Colchester.  In  1643,  with  the  plantations 
of  New  Hampshire,  Hampton,  Exeter,  Portsmouth  and 
Dover,  it  helped  form  with  Haverhill,  Mass.,  the  territory 
of  Old  Norfolk  County.  It  was  the  shire  town  of  the 
county  until  New  Hampshire  was  again  separated  and 
formed  into  a royal  government,  in  1679. 

“ Ould  Newberry,”  the  mother  of  towns,  situated  upon 
the  south  bank  of  the  Merrimack,  was  settled  by  the 
whites  in  the  spring  of  1635.  The  Indians  had  long  kept  a 
lodgment  here  known  as  Quasacunquen,  signifying  in  their 
tongue  a “waterfall.”  West  Newbury,  a good  farming 
town,  was  separated  from  Newbury  in  1819.  A little  over 
half  a century  before,  in  1764,  that  one-time  port  of  for- 
eign trade,  which  was  carried  on  here  quite  extensively, 
Newburyport,  situated  at  the  mouth  of  the  Merrimack,  had 
been  similarly  favored.  Shipping  has  been  seriously  im- 
peded by  the  bar  at  the  outlet  of  the  river,  which  like  the 
“great  river”  of  China  seems  determined  to  protect  itself 


18 


THE  MERRIMACK  RIVER 


from  the  sea,  but  fishing  and  ship  building  have  received 
considerable  attention.  Manufacturing  has  been  followed 
to  a considerable  extent.  This  is  probably  the  smallest 
town  in  area  in  the  United  States,  being  about  two  miles 
in  length  and  one-fourth  of  a mile  in  breadth,  in  its  popu- 
lated territory,  and  contains  barely  one  square  mile  in  its 
entire  extent.  This  town  became  noted  a hundred  years 
ago  for  its  ship-building,  being  especially  well  situated  for 
this  enterprise.  It  is  claimed  that  a hundred  vessels  have 
been  in  progress  of  construction  at  its  piers  at  one  time. 

As  noted  as  this  vicinity  is  for  its  remarkable  coast 
scenery,  one  of  its  most  prominent  features  is  the  sand 
bar  thrown  across  the  mouth  of  the  river  by  that  busy 
builder  itself,  as  if  it  would  seek  protection  from  the  hun- 
gry ocean  forever  seeking  to  devour  it.  This  exposed  out- 
post, barely  half  a mile  in  width,  extends  for  over  nine 
miles  parallel  with  the  coast.  A few  adventurous  home- 
seekers  have  built  their  houses  upon  its  inhospitable  shores, 
but  it  is  almost  entirely  without  tree  or  shrub,  and  its  suf- 
fering vegetation  lies  half  smothered  in  the  parti-colored 
sands,  which  are  continually  drifting  over  it  and  as  con- 
stantly fleeing  away  as  much  at  the  mercy  of  the  wind  as 
the  snows  of  winter.  One  shrub,  the  beach  plum,  which 
gives  name  to  the  island,  braves  the  elements  to  an  extent 
which  attracts  crowds  to  the  place  in  the  early  autumn, 
seeking  its  fruit  which  is  very  palatable.  The  wind  has 
kneaded  and  worked  over  the  fine  particles  composing  this 
remarkable  plot  of  terra  Jirma , which  does  not  deserve  in  its 
fullest  sense  this  term,  into  many  fantastic  shapes.  It  has 
builded  on  its  shores,  at  their  greatest  altitude  not  over 
twenty  feet,  miniature  bluffs  of  most  grim  aspect,  and  scal- 
loped from  its  lean  banks  graceful  hillsides  and  long  ridges 
of  sand,  curved  and  twisted  like  the  spines  of  so  many 
monsters  of  the  deep.  Over  these  naked  places  a species 
of  sea  moss  modestly  twines  its  tremulous  drapery,  while 
the  delicate  beach  pea,  looking  sweeter  for  its  dreary  set- 


THE  MERRIMACK  RIVER 


19 


ting,  flings  a mantle  of  green  over  the  gray  sand.  But, 
if  treated  niggardly  by  nature,  this  island  has  been  espec- 
ially fortunate  in  having  for  its  admirers  such  chroniclers 
as  Whittier  and  Thoreau. 

There  is  good  reason  for  believing  that  the  original 
course  of  the  Merrimack  after  reaching  Lowell,  where  it 
now  makes  a sharp  bend  toward  the  north  and  east,  was 
more  southerly  than  at  present,  and  that  it  entered  the  sea 
near  where  Boston  is  now  built.  The  change  was  due  to 
obstructions  filling  in  the  old  channel,  and  making  it  easier 
for  the  great  volume  of  water  of  that  period  to  cut  a new 
passage  than  to  clear  the  old.  This  doubtless  took  place  at 
or  near  the  close  of  the  glacial  epoch. 

As  it  runs  to-day,  including  its  tributaries,  the  Merri- 
mack drains  a territory  in  New  Hampshire  and  Massachu- 
setts of  nearly  five  thousand  square  miles,  and  forms  one 
of  the  most  important  river  basins  in  the  United  States, 
the  density  of  its  population  being  equalled  only  by  the 
valleys  of  the  Delaware  and  the  Housatonic.  The  number 
of  its  inhabitants  according  to  the  latest  official  returns  is 
approximately  three-fourths  of  a million  (750,000)  or  150 
persons  to  a square  mile.  The  river  and  its  tributaries  has 
improved  water  privileges  amounting  to  one  hundred  thous- 
and horse  power,  of  which  more  than  one  half  is  in  New 
Hampshire.  It  is  claimed  that  its  waters  turn  more  ma- 
chinery than  any  other  river  in  the  world.  Its  importance 
as  a manufacturing  factor  is  shown  in  the  estimate  that 
one-sixth  of  all  the  cotton  and  woolen  carpets;  one-fifth  of 
all  the  woolen  and  cotton  and  woolen  goods ; and  over  one- 
fourth  of  all  the  cotton  fabrics,  manufactured  in  the  United 
States,  are  made  in  the  valley  of  the  Merrimack  and 
its  tributaries.  Of  the  eleven  cities,  most  benefited  by 
the  river,  we  find  that  their  interest  reaches  enormous  fig- 
ures, divided  in  round  numbers,  as  follows,  the  first  five  be- 
ing’located  in  New  Hampshire:  Laconia,  $2,389,  202;  Frank- 
lin, $1,708,889;  Concord,  $5,357,408 ; Manchester,  $26,607,- 


20  THE  MERRIMACK  RIVER 

600;  Nashua,  $11,037,676;  Lowell,  $44,772,525;  Law- 
rence. $44,703,278;  Haverhill,  $24,937,073;  Amesbury,  $3,- 
898,251  ; Newburyport,  $5,685,768.  Of  course,  it  is  to  be 
understood  that  all  of  the  power  to  carry  on  this  great 
stroke  of  industry  is  not  furnished  directly  by  the  Merri- 
mack, but  that  river  is  the  direct  stimulus  which  has  caused 
these  places  to  become  the  great  manufacturing  centers 
they  now  are.  As  is  the  case  with  New  Hampshire,  Mas- 
sachusetts has  many  smaller  places  scattered  along  the 
Merrimack  and  its  tributaries  which  have  become  manu- 
facturing centers,  where  many  thousand  dollars’  worth  of 
goods  are  annually  made. 

We  find  the  history  of  the  Merrimack  and  its  basin  eas- 
ily divided  into  two  periods,  the  period  of  the  pioneers  and 
that  of  progress  in  manufacture.  The  first  was  fruitful  of 
incidents  enough  to  fill  a volume  that  would  read  more  like 
romance  than  history.  A few  years  following  of  the  Mas- 
sachusetts Bay  colonists,  in  the  vicinity  of  Salem,  a little 
company  of  men  from  Yorkshire,  England,  plain,  industri- 
ous tillers  of  the  soil,  came  to  New  England  to  try  their 
fortune  in  the  great  untrodden  wilderness  reaching  from 
the  outlet  to  the  source  of  the  Merrimack.  With  the  ex- 
ception of  a collection  of  the  red  men  here  and  there  upon 
the  lower  section  of  the  river,  either  part  of  or  belonging  to 
thePenacook  Indians,  the  valley  was  free  from  the  presence 
of  the  dusky  hunter  or  fisher.  The  principal  lodge  of  these 
aborigines  was  at  Pawtucket,  just  above  Lowell  and  these 
the  new-comers  placated  with  gifts  and  deeds  of  kindness. 
So  the  hardy  Yorkshiremen  went  onward  with  their  work 
of  colonization,  until  here  and  there  a little  meeting  house 
arose  in  this  primeval  wilderness,  surrounded  by  stockades 
of  smooth,  strong  poles  driven  into  the  ground  and  stand- 
ing about  twice  the  height  of  a tall  man.  Around  these 
humble  places  of  worship  gathered  the  rude  cabins  forming 
the  first  homes  of  the  Merrimack  valley. 

The  simple  sons  of  the  forest  vanished  from  the  pathway 
of  these  new-comers  like  dew  before  the  morning  sun. 


FROM  MOUNTAIN  TO  SKA 


THE  MERRIMACK  RIVER 


21 


Wannalancet,  the  last  great  sachem  at  Pawtucket,  finally 
withdrew  the  remnant  of  his  flock  to  the  rendezvous  at  St. 
Francis,  in  Canada.  There  were  left  then  the  wandering 
tribes  of  warriors,  incited  to  bitterness  against  the  English 
by  the  French,  to  be  met  and  overcome  in  hand-to-hand 
grapples,  where  cunning  more  often  than  strength  was 
pitted  in  the  fray.  The  first  settlement  made  within  the 
valley  as  far  north  as  the  line  of  New  Hampshire,  was  made 
in  what  became  known  as  Old  Dunstable,  and  from  this 
settlement,  upon  Salmon  Brook,  was  not  only  a lookout  es- 
tablished, but  from  this  outpost  scouting  party  after  party 
was  sent  to  hunt  down  the  enemy,  that  never  seemed  to 
sleep  from  the  beginning  of  King  Philip's  war,  in  1675,  to 
the  closing  of  the  cruel  drama  upon  the  meadows  of  the 
Saco,  when  Lovewell  and  his  men  found  victory  in  defeat, 
May  8,  1725. 

The  Indian  wars  practically  closed  in  the  lower  section 
of  the  river,  that  bitter  contention  between  the  white  colon- 
ists of  the  two  provinces,  Massachusetts  and  New  Hamp- 
shire, known  as  the  “ boundary  dispute,”  opened  in  earnest, 
and  lasted  until  1741.  This  dispute  arose  over  the  miscon- 
ception already  mentioned,  thinking  that  the  Merrimack 
arose  directly  in  the  west  and  flowed  continuously  toward 
the  east.  During  t-he  “boundary  war”  Massachusetts 
granted  several  townships  in  what  is  now  the  territory  of 
New  Hampshire,  but  these  were  finally  lost  to  the  grant- 
ees. 

At  this  time,  and  for  fifty  years  or  more  later,  the  build- 
ing of  homes  and  the  clearing  of  the  wilderness  for  farms 
were  the  prevailing  thoughts.  As  it  had  been  the  favorite 
hunting  ground  of  the  red  men,  so  did  it  hold  exceptional 
advantages  and  promises  to  the  husbandman.  No  one  then 
dreamed  of  the  latent  power  in  its  rapids  and  waterfalls. 
But  already  the  coming  factor  in  the  progress  of  mankind 
had  made  its  beginning.  At  the  same  time  the  courts  of 
the  rival  provinces  were  finally  coming  to  an  amicable  set- 


THE  MERRIMACK  RIVER 


22 

tlement  of  the  boundary  dispute,  manufacturing  was  be- 
gun at  Manchester,  England,  and  machinery  for  the  man- 
ufacture of  cotton  and  woolen  goods  invented.  The 
first  patent  for  a spinning  machine  was  given  in  1738, 
in  England,  to  Lewis  Paul ; then  followed  ten  years 
later  his  invention  of  cylinder  carding  machine.  In  1769, 
Richard  Arkwright  received  a patent  for  his  spinning 
frame,  and  in  1785  the  Rev.  Samuel  Cartwright  took  out 
his  patent  for  a power  loom.  Four  years  later  steam  power 
was  first  applied  to  manufacturing  purposes.  These  inven- 
tions were  preceeded  and  followed  by  others  of  scarcely 
less  importance,  until  a system  of  factory  enterprises  came 
to  revolutionize  the  situation  in  the  Merrimack  valley,  and 
give  it  that  place  in  the  industrial  world  to  which  it  right- 
fully belongs.  Cotton  manufacture  was  begun  in  Beverly, 
in  1785,  while  manufactures  of  this  kind  started  elsewhere  in 
the  United  States.  But  it  was  not  until  1793,  when  Eli 
Whitney  gave  to  the  world  his  cotton  gin,  that  the  manu- 
facture of  cotton  was  begun  in  earnest.  The  first  manu- 
facturing in  the  Merrimack  Valley,  properly  speaking,  seems 
to  have  been  inaugurated  in  1801,  by  Moses  Hale. 

Before  I speak  more  fully  of  the  growth  of  manufac- 
ture on  the  Merrimack  I wish  to  refer  to  another  industry 
that  was  attracting  considerable  attention.  This  was  boat- 
ing upon  the  river.  That  was  a period  of  rapid  improve- 
ment. Boston  was  becoming  a thriving  town  of  twenty 
thousand  inhabitants,  and  there  were  suburbs  that  only 
needed  the  stimulus  of  trade  to  give  them  power  and  pros- 
perity. The  valley  of  the  Merrimack,  far  up  into  New  Hamp- 
shire, even  if  sparsely  settled,  promised  a rich  harvest  of 
trade  to  the  centers  which  could  draw  it.  Better  means  of 
communication  was  thus  the  vital  question.  Turnpikes  were 
builded  through  the  country,  but  while  these  were  an  im- 
provement over  the  poor  roads  hitnerto  existing,  slow-going 
ox-teams  were  the  main  dependence  for  power  of  transit. 
Transportation  thus  not  only  became  tedious,  but  it  was 
expensive. 


THE  MERRIMACK  RIVER 


23 


At  this  time  the  Hon.  James  Sullivan  projected  the 
Middlesex  canal,  which  offered  easy  connection  between 
Lowell  and  Boston,  by  following  almost  identically  the 
course  believed  to  have  once  been  the  pathway  of  the  river. 

Among  the  foremost  men  of  the  period,  who  stood  for 
the  development  of  the  country,  was  the  Hon.  Samuel 
Blodget,  a native  of  Woburn,  but  at  this  time  in 
business  in  Haverhill.  He  had  already  foreseen  that  the 
Merrimack  was  possible  of  becomming  a maritime  highway 
certain  to  benefit  not  only  the  producer  and  the  consumer, 
but  was  sure  to  bring  the  promoter  a handsome  reward  for 
his  investments  and  exertions.  Though  now  a man  who 
had  arrived  at  an  age  when  most  men  are  laying  aside  the 
burdens  and  responsibilities  of  business,  he  formed  his 
plans  with  the  sanguineness  of  a young  man  with  all  the 
world  before  him.  He  conceived  the  purpose  of  making 
the  river  navigable  as  far,  at  least,  as  Concord,  with  a pos- 
sibility that  it  might  be  opened  to  the  lake.  In  order  to  do 
this  the  falls  must  be  surmounted  by  canals,  the  greatest 
of  which  would  be  that  at  Amoskeag,  which  has  a perpen- 
dicular measurement  of  forty- five  feet.  Upon  May  2,  1793, 
he  began  work  on  the  canals  at  that  place,  meeting  with 
obstacles  that  must  have  disheartened  a less  courageous 
heart ; exhausting  his  own  means,  and  calling  upon  others 
for  assistance,  so  that  on  May  1,  1807,  he  completed  his 
noble  work.  Other  canals  were  built,  though  of  less  size, 
and  the  river  was  opened  as  far  as  Concord,  N.  H.,  to  be- 
come the  most  popular  route  for  moving  merchandise  be- 
tween Boston  and  the  towns  of  the  north.  With  the  river 
boatmen  sprang  into  service  a new  phase  of  life,  exciting, 
profitable  and  strenuous,  building  up  a set  of  characters 
noted  for  their  hardihood.  Passenger  packets  beginning  to 
run  from  Lowell  to  the  sea  during  this  period,  the  last  of 
these  disappeared  about  1838. 

Judge  Blodget  died  in  September,  1807,  but  he  has  left 
the  impress  of  his  energetic  power  upon  the  locality  where 


24 


THE  MERRIMACK  RIVER 


he  had  spent  his  last  years.  He,  with  General  John  Stark 
of  Revolutionary  fame,  built  the  first  saw  mill  above  the 
falls,  and  seeing  possibilities  of  the  waterfall  he  laid  the 
foundation  toward  building  up  that  great  manufacturing  in- 
terest later  entered  into  by  the  great  company  known  the 
world  over  as  the  Amoskeag  Manufacturing  Company.  He 
suggested  the  coming  city  should  be  named  after  that  al- 
ready growing  center  of  industry,  Manchester,  England. 

In  the  midst  of  the  growing  business  of  both  river  and 
turnpike,  a new  motor  of  transportation  appeared  upon  the 
scene,  when,  in  1842,  the  iron  horse  came  up  the  valley 
puffing  and  shrieking  like  mad,  to  the  surprised  beholders, 
but  a conqueror  of  time  and  speed.  With  the  success  of 
the  railroad  the  remarkable  progress  of  the  string  of 
manufacturing  cities  on  the  Merrimack  continued  with  in- 
creasing prosperity.  Since  1850,  only  a few  years  more 
than  half  a century,  Manchester,  Nashua,  Lowell,  Law- 
rence, Haverhill,  to  say  nothing  of  the  remaining  cities, 
have  flourished  beyond  what  could  have  been  the  prediction 
of  the  most  sanguine  person.  In  this  same  period  the  steam 
engine  has  pushed  its  way  steadily  out  from  the  main  river, 
until  now  it  runs  along  the  banks  of  all  but  three  of  its  trib- 
utaries, following  on  almost  to  their  sources.  Of  the  hun- 
dred or  more  towns  in  New  Hampshire  that  are  drained  by 
these  streams  there  is  scarcely  a dozen  which  is  not  banded 
by  the  iron  rails,  while  the  total  length  of  these  roads  in 
this  state  is  over  five  hundred  miles.  Massachusetts  has 
been  even  more  fortunate  in  this  respect.  In  addition  to 
this,  the  electric  motor  has  found  its  way  as  far  north  as 
the  valley  of  the  Pemigewasset,  except  for  a link  soon  to 
be  built  between  Nashua  and  Manchester,  N.  H.,  making 
an  endless  chain  from  the  sea  to  the  mountains.  Trolley 
lines  have  penetrated  into  many  of  the  adjoining  towns, 
bringing  them  within  close  touch  of  the  river  of  progress. 

Besides  being  a manufacturing  district,  the  Merrimack 
Valley  is  a beautiful  agricultural  country,  and  some  of  the 


LOOKING  NORTH  FROM  HOOKSETT  PINNACLE 


THE  MERRIMACK  RIVER 


25 


finest  homesteads  in  New  England  have  been  developed 
from  the  clearings  of  the  pioneers  one  hundred  and  fifty 
years  ago.  Its  scenery  of  hills  and  vales,  lakes  and  moun- 
tains, entwined  with  bands  of  silvery  streams,  is  equal  to 
any  found  upon  the  slopes  of  the  Appalachian  chain  of  high- 
lands. And  the  chief  attraction  to-day,  as  it  was  at  its 
period  of  its  primeval  glory,  is  the  red  man’s  Merrimack, 
“river  of  broken  waters,”  the  busiest,  merriest,  noblest 
water-way  in  New  England.  Dashing  with  child-like  glee 
from  whence 

“ The  pine-trees  lean  above  its  cradle,  laid 
Deep  under  tangled  roots  and  mossy  sod, 

Where  mountains  lift  their  faces  unafraid 
Thro  sun  and  starlight  to  the  face  of  God,” 

gliding  swiftly  over  pebble-strewn  beds,  winding  through 
rich  meadows  like  a silver  thread  in  the  green  vestment  of 
Nature,  flinging  its  legions  of  snowy  caps  tossed  high  in 
the  air  over  rocky  stairways,  making  a descent  of  six  thou- 
sand feet  in  two  hundred  miles,  it  seeks  the  sea  and  rests 
with  the  calmness  of  old  age.  The  constant  song  of  its 
rushing  current  is  the  eternal  melody  of  industry ; the  un- 
ending roar  of  its  waterfalls,  the  voice  that  calls  men  to  work 
in  thunder  tones.  It  turns  more  factory  wheels,  lights  more 
forge  fires,  swings  more  hammers,  keeps  busy  more  hands  of 
art  and  toil  than  any  other  river  that  runs  to  the  sea.  The 
products  of  its  looms  have  been  sent  to  every  clime ; its  cot- 
ton cloths  and  woolen  goods  have  been  the  raiment  of  many 
races  of  men  ; its  iron  and  steel  the  building  material  of  city 
and  country  ; its  tools  and  machinery  the  strong  helpers  on 
farm  and  in  work  shop,  at  home  and  abroad ; stout  ships 
plow  the  watery  highway  of  the  deep  laden  with  its  com- 
merce, while  the  triumphant  whistle  of  the  iron  horse 
has  awakened  the  solitude  of  far-distant  lands. 


'Cf )c  Jpirgt  ^urbep  of  tfje  J^Errimacfe 


FEW  years  since  a most  interesting  document 
was  found  among  the  old  papers  of  Essex  county, 
which  is  undoubtedly  the  oldest  map  or  plan  of 
the  Merrimack  valley  in  existence. 

It  is  inscribed  as  follows : 

“Plat  of  Meremack  River  from  ye  See  up  to  Wenepe- 
soce  Pond,  also  the  Corses  from  Dunstable  to  Penny-cook. 
Jno.  Gardner.” 

While  without  date  or  explanatory  papers,  it  is  evi- 
dently the  plan  of  the  first  survey  of  the  Merrimack  River 
from  the  sea  to  its  source.  This  survey  was  probably  made 
in  1638,  as  May  22,  1639,  we  find  the  court  allowing  one 
Woodward  the  sum  of  three  pounds  “for  his  journey  to 
discover  the  running  of  the  Merrimack,”  while  four  others 
who  went  with  him  were  allowed  “5s.  a day  apiece.”  The 
Governor  and  his  deputies,  evidently  thinking  the  principal 
in  the  affair  had  been  insufficiently  paid,  ordered  him  ten 
shillings  more.  This  is  in  accordance  with  an  order  of  the 
General  Court  of  the  Massachusetts  Bay  Colony,  made  in 
July,  1638,  which  authorized  the  above-mentioned  Wood- 
ward, with  three  others  besides  an  Indian  guide,  “to  lay 
out  the  line  three  miles  northward  of  the  most  northermost 
part  of  Merrimack.” 

The  name  of  John  Gardner  does  not  appear  in  either 
order,  but  the  identity  of  the  surveyor  and  his  important 
connection  with  the  expedition  is  clearly  shown  by  the  local 
records.  He  was  the  son  of  Thomas  Gardner,  who  was 
born  in  1 592,  and  whose  ancestral  home  was  evidently  in 

26 


THE  MERRIMACK  RIVER 


27 


Dorsetshire,  Eng.,  though  it  has  been  claimed  that  he  came 
to  this  country  from  Scotland. 

For  further  particulars  of  the  connection  of  these  fam- 
ilies see  Dr.  Gardner’s  valuable  article  published  by  the 
Salem  Institute,  Historical  Collection,  Vol.  XXXVII,  en- 
titled, “ Thomas  Gardner,  Planter,  and  Some  of  His  De- 
scendants.” 

He  had  connected  himself  with  a body  of  men  in  Dor- 
chester, known  afterward  as  “The  Cape  Ann  Planters,” 
but  styled  then  as  “The  Dorchester  Company,”  who  had 
organized  to  settle  a colony  on  Cape  Ann.  This  company 
landed  in  1624,  on  the  west  side  of  what  is  now  known  as 
Gloucester  harbor,  but  it  proved  that  the  soil  and  the  advan- 
tages of  the  place  were  unequal  to  forming  a successful 
plantation.  The  leaders  of  the  company,  who  were  still  in 
England,  discredited  the  unpopular  report,  and  secured  in 
Roger  Conant  a new  manager  for  the  colony. 

But  he  soon  came  to  dislike  the  place  as  much  as  the 
others,  and  in  1626  our  Thomas  Gardner  obtained  permis- 
sion to  remove  the  little  disheartened  colony  to  the  mouth 
of  Naumkeag  river.  Some  of  the  most  discouraged  re- 
turned in  their  disappointment  to  their  native  land,  but  the 
boldest  and  most  sanguine,  under  the  efficient  leadership  of 
Thomas  Gardner,  entered  upon  their  new  venture  with 
earnest  purpose,  and  this  hardy  little  band  became  the 
founders  of  Salem.  As  has  been  aptly  remarked,  scant 
credit  has  been  bestowed  upon  them  by  the  historians  of 
early  New  England.  In  his  capacity  as  overseer  of  the 
plantation  at  Cape  Ann,  Thomas  Gardner  was  in  truth  the 
first  man  in  authority  within  that  territory,  since  widely 
known  as  “The  Massachusetts  Bay  Colony.”  He  was  one 
of  the  original  members  of  the  first  church  in  Salem;  he 
was  made  a free  man  in  1637,  and  also  elected  a deputy  to 
the  General  Court.  For  many  years  prominent  in  the 
affairs  of  the  growing  commonwealth,  he  died  in  1674,  leav- 
ing an  estate  of  several  hnndred  acres  of  land,  considerable 
of  it  obtained  from  grants  received  for  public  services, 


28 


THE  MERRIMACK  RIVER 


His  wife  is  supposed  to  have  been  a sister  of  the  famous 
Puritan  divine,  Rev.  John  White. 

John  Gardner,  the  surveyor  and  justice,  was  born  in 
1624,  of  this  parentage,  in  the  year  of  the  landing  of  the 
Cape  Ann  Planters  in  the  new  country.  This  was  four 
years  before  the  coming  of  Endicott.  The  first  mention  of 
his  name  was  made  in  the  records  of  the  General  Court  at 
Boston,  in  1639,  when  “The  treasurer  was  ordered  to  pay 
John  Gardner  20s  for  witness  charge  & carrying  Goodman 
Woodward  his  instruments  to  Ipswich.”  It  will  thus  be 
seen  that  he  early  became  acquainted  with  that  work  he  so 
often  undertook  later  in  life.  This,  it  will  be  observed,  was 
the  year  following  the  survey  of  the  Merrimack,  and  it  is 
quite  certain  that  young  Gardner  was  a chain  bearer  for 
Surveyor  Woodward,  upon  that  first  survey  of  the  Merri- 
mack, though  his  name  is  not  mentioned.  This  does  not 
destroy  the  evidence,  however,  as  the  names  of  Woodward’s 
companions  are  not  all  given  in  the  records.  If  one  were 
omitted  it  would  be  most  likely  that  of  the  boy  of  the  expe- 
dition, though  that  same  lad  was  to  become  afterwards  the 
means  of  perpetuating  the  results  of  that  undertaking. 

In  the  following  years  the  name  of  John  Gardner 
appears  quite  frequently  in  the  records  of  those  times  as 
surveyor,  juror,  selectman  and  as  justice  of  the  peace  for  a 
long  period.  He  lived  for  many  years  in  a house  standing 
on  what  is  now  Essex  street,  well  down  toward  the  water. 
He  married  Priscilla  Grafton,  daughter  of  Joseph  Grafton 
of  Salem,  and  a prominent  family  in  Colonial  days.  She 
was  the  mother  of  six  daughters  and  one  son,  dying,  it  is 
believed,  in  1717. 

John  Gardner  died  in  1706,  full  of  years  and  honors, 
and  was  buried  in  the  burial  ground  on  “Forefathers  Hill,” 
near  the  present  pumping  station.  According  to  Dr.  Gard- 
ner’s article,  already  referred  to,  “ the  original  gravestone  is 
still  in  existence,  but  is  kept  at  present  in  the  old  Coffin 
house  known  as  the  ‘horse-shoe  house.’  ” This  stone,  which 
had  marked  the  spot  for  seventy-five  years,  was  removed  for 


From  a painting  by  Frank  Holland. 

Moonlight  on  the  Merrimack,  Showing  the  Flight  of  Hannah  Dustin. 


THE  MERRIMACK  RIVER 


29 


preservation  in  1881,  and  was  replaced  by  a substantial 
granite  stone  with  the  following  inscription,  a copy  of  the 
original:  “Here  lyes  buried  ye  body  of  John  Gardner,  Esq., 
aged  82  who  died  May,  1706.” 

Having  said  so  much  of  the  actors  in  the  affairs,  let  us 
glance  at  the  situation  and  the  causes  which  led  to  the  sur- 
vey. Endicott,  already  selected  by  the  London  Company 
to  be  Governor  of  the  colony,  arrived  in  1628.  The  Gen- 
eral Court  of  London  had  anticipated  the  permanent  organ- 
ization of  the  colonists  by  declaring:  “That  thirteen  of 
such  as  shall  be  reputed  the  most  wyse,  honest,  expert  and 
discreet  persons,  residents  upon  the  Plantaceon,  shall  have 
the  sole  managing  and  ordering  of  the  government  and  our 
affairs  there,  who  to  the  best  of  their  judgment  are  to 
endeavor  to  settle  the  same  as  they  may  make  most  for  the 
Glory  of  God,  the  furtherance  and  advancement  of  this 
hopeful  Plantaceon,  the  comfort,  encouragement  and  future 
benefit  of  us  and  others,  the  beginners  and  promoters  of 
this  so  laudable  worke.” 

Unfortunately  the  records  of  those  early  years  are 
lost,  but  future  events  show  conclusively  that  the  colo- 
nists lived  fully  up  to  the  demands  and  expectations  of  the 
promoters  of  the  settlement.  The  choice  of  John  Endicott 
for  governor  proved  a happy  one,  and  no  doubt  insured 
much  toward  the  ultimate  success  of  the  enterprise.  It  has 
been  well  said  that  “possessing  positive  traits  of  character, 
unflinching  firmness  united  with  great  executive  ability,  he 
overcame  difficulties  that  beset  him  on  every  side,  and  suc- 
ceeded in  the  accomplishment  of  the  most  important  trust 
ever  entrusted  to  any  one  person,  the  laying  of  the  founda- 
tion and  shaping  the  institutions  of  the  New  World.” 

As  paradoxical  as  it  may  seem  at  this  day,  in  the  course 
of  a decade  the  colonists  represented  themselves  as 
“straightened  for  the  want  of  land.”  Hubbard,  the  his- 
torian of  those  times,  says  that  Ipswich  was  so  overrun 
with  people  that  they  swarmed  to  other  places.  Out  of  the 
demand  for  “further  farms  ” came  the  order  by  the  courts  in 


30 


THE  MERRIMACK  RIVER 


1638  to  explore  the  valley  of  the  Merrimack  river  to  the 
limits  of  the  northern  boundary  supposed  to  have  been 
fixed  by  charter  granted  to  the  Massachusetts  Bay  Com- 
pany. According  to  the  records  of  the  company  this  was 
as  follows : 

“Bounds  of  that  part  of  New  England,  in  America, 
which  lies  and  extends  between  a great  river  there  com- 
monly called  ‘Monoack’  alias  ‘Meremack’  & a certain 
other  river  there  called  Charles  river,  being  in  the  bottom 
of  a certain  bay  here  commonly  called  Massachusetts  bay 
& also  all  and  singular  those  lands  and  here  diaments  what- 
soever lying  within  the  space  of  three  English  miles  on  the 
south  part  of  said  Charles  River,  & c. 

“And  also  all  singular  the  lands  and  pereditaments 
whatsoever  which  lie,  & be  within  the  space  of  three  Eng- 
lish miles  to  the  Northward  of  said  river  Called  ‘Mono- 
mack,’  alias  ‘Merrymack,’  or  to  the  northward  of  any  and 
every  part  thereof : And  all  lands  &c.  lying  within  the  limit 
aforesaid,  &c.,  &c.” 

As  yet  the  colonists  could  have  had  only  the  most 
vague  conceptions  concerning  the  course  of  the  river  which 
had  been  selected  to  become  the  continuous  guide  by  which 
to  establish  the  northern  boundary.  That  it  was  necessary 
to  carry  out  such  a survey  is  evident,  and  the  inhabitants  of 
Naumkeag  were  especially  anxious  to  further  this  explor- 
ation, as  well  as  the  survey  of  the  unknown  regions  beyond 
them.  That  it  was  an  undertaking  fraught  with  danger  did 
not  for  a moment  cause  those  adventurous  spirits  to  hesi- 
tate. Already  had  new  plantations  been  established  as  far 
as  Agawam,  now  Springfield,  on  the  west,  and  Casco  Bay 
settlement  on  the  east.  The  only  thing  to  hinder  them 
from  laying  out  new  plantations  in  the  desirable  territory 
of  the  Merrimack  valley  was  the  settlement  of  the  line. 
Accordingly,  in  answer  to  a petition  from  them,  the  Gen- 
eral Court  at  Boston,  on  July  6,  1638,  voted  that  “Good- 
man Woodward,  Mr.  John  Stretton,  with  an  Indian  and  two 
others  appointed  by  the  Magistrates  of  Ipswich,  are  to  lay 


BY  THE  SHORES  OF  INLAND  WATERS 


THE  MERRIMACK  RIVER 


31 


out  the  line  3 miles  northward  of  the  most  Northermost 
part  of  Merrimack,  for  which  they  are  to  have  5s  a day  a 
piece.” 

The  survey,  which  occupied  about  two  weeks  of  time, 
was  doubtless  performed  early  in  the  fall  of  the  same  year, 
but  unfortunately  no  special  account  of  the  journey  through 
the  trackless  wilderness  has  been  handed  down.  That  it 
was  filled  with  arduous  labor  and  accomplished  to  the  satis- 
faction of  the  court  there  is  no  doubt.  The  brave  little 
party  penetrated  so  far  north  that  the  shore  of  Lake 
Winnipesaukee  is  marked  in  the  plan  or  plot,  the  earliest 
drawing  of  the  Merrimack,  with  its  taibutaries. 

From  this  plan  the  committee  selected  to  pass  upon 
the  settlement  of  the  matter  fixed  the  northern  line  at  a big 
pine  tree  standing  three  miles  north  of  the  Winnipesaukee 
and  Pemigewasset  rivers.  This  tree  became  known  as 
Endicott’s  Tree,  and  as  late  as  1737,  during  the  vexatious 
trial  at  the  noted  court  at  Salisbury,  August  8,  the  conclu- 
sions of  the  evidence  rested  upon  “3.  certain  tree  commonly 
known  for  more  than  seventy  years  past  by  the  name  of 
Endicott’s  Tree,  standing  three  miles  northward  of  the  part- 
ing of  the  Merrimack  river,”  to  establish  the  boundary. 
Notwithstanding  this  no  one  ever  seemed  to  be  able  to  tell 
just  where  it  stood,  and  as  a matter  of  fact  it  was  of  little 
if  any  account  as  a bound. 

Even  allowing  this  to  be  the  case,  it  does  not  diminish 
the  value  of  this  survey,  for  upon  this  was  based  the  calcu- 
lations leading  to  the  better  known  and  more  permanent 
work  performed  by  men  composing  the  expedition  of  1652, 
when  it  became  necessary  to  repeat  this  survey  by  the  four 
whose  names  have  been  handed  down  to  history  as  the  suc- 
cessful operators  of  an  undertaking  not  removed  from  dan- 
ger and  difficulty  at  this  date.  No  doubt  at  this  the  Wood- 
ward survey  was  reviewed  and  the  old  plan  brought  forth 
from  its  pigeon  hole.  Some  claim  the  plot  now  in  existence 
is  a copy  of  the  original  made  as  late  as  1668  or  1669,  but 
does  it  not  seem  probable  that  it  was  made  at  this  time, 


32 


THE  MERRIMACK  RIVER 


granting  it  is  a copy?  It  being  done  by  John  Gardner 
shows  that  he  must  have  been  familiar  with  the  subject, 
and  it  does  not  seem  at  all  reasonable  that  he  accompanied 
the  party,  as  young  as  he  was  at  this  time,  a boy  about  fif- 
teen. It  is  certain  that  he  had  already  been  an  assistant  to 
Goodman  Woodward,  and  whom  would  the  latter  be  more 
likely  to  take  as  a companion  and  helper  on  this  trip  than 
the  nimble,  brave-hearted  lad  that  we  know  John  Gardner 
to  have  been  ? Be  it  as  it  may,  the  work  of  a boy  or  a man, 
it  shows  commendable  accuracy  and  completeness  of  detail. 

A reference  map  shows  that  the  first  tributary  is  that 
of  “ Samon  Brook.”  I follow  the  original  spelling  and  cap- 
italization, while  what  is  known  as  Nashua  river  is  given  as 
“ Canister  river.”  The  next  stream  marked  is  Nanticook 
in  Merrimack,  which  is  spelled  here  “ pennychok,”  while  a 
little  above  the  Souhegan  is  indicated  under  its  correct 
orthography.  One  of  the  several  minor  tributaries  coming 
from  Litchfield  is  here  set  down  under  the  name  of  “ Nay- 
cancoke,”  which  today  is  called  Messenteau.  Above  this 
is  “Cakusek,”  which  can  be  made  to  stand  for  Cohas,  while 
the  Massabesic  pond  is  indicated  in  the  distance.  This,  as 
far  as  I know,  is  the  first  official  mention  of  the  name  as 
applied  to  this  body  of  water.  The  Piscataquog  is  very 
well  traced  under  the  name  of  “Perscataquay.”  Two  coni- 
cal shapes  in  the  distance  mark  the  “ occonanauch  ” moun- 
tains, which  may  or  may  not  be  construed  to  read  Unca- 
noonuc  mountains.  The  falls  of  the  Merrimack  is  noted 
under  the  name  of  “ Amuskeeg,”  and  a little  above  is  Black 
brook.  Above  this  is  traced  a small  stream  without  a name, 
while  beyond  the  latter  the  bold  escarpment  at  the  present 
town  of  Hooksett,  now  known  as  the  “lookout,”  was  indi- 
cated by  a name  difficult  to  decipher,  but  which  may  have 
been  intended  to  mean  “Lone  Hawk  Hill.”  A little  above 
this,  on  the  right,  Suncook  river  is  marked  unmistakably 
under  the  spelling  of  “Sunckeok.”  Then,  again  on  the 
right,  is  given  the  small  stream  rising  in  Turtle  pond,  East 
Concord,  the  source  of  thisbrook  being  marked.  On  the 


j?:;.. .jw 

Drawn  for  the  Granite  State  Magazine  By  ELMER  H.  BERLUND 

THE  GARDNER  SURVEY  OF  THE  MERRIMACK  RIVER,  1638 
(Reduced  one-half  from  original) 


V,  i&K  a 

.H  f '{H  h.  itat?  *tiha;i.';  rf»r  «v.iiU 

mi'HA  fl'A  3HT  HO  V3V  IIW  >U3V:  Jrt/.  ' :HT 

b,  .,  ,5ft 


THE  MERRIMACK  RIVER 


33 


left,  a little  above  this,  is  given  the  small  stream  that  con- 
nects Horse  Shoe  pond  with  the  Merrimack.  Just  above 
the  junction  of  another  small  stream,  which  was  evidently 
that  forming  the  outlet  of  Penacook  pond,  is  found  the 
word  “ Penychook,”  which  may  have  been  intended  to 
denote  the  site  of  the  old  ancient  Indian  settlement  in  this 
vicinity,  of  the  brook.  Then  comes  under  the  spelling  of 
“ Pacuneshu,”  “Contoocook  River,”  traced  to  two  sources, 
one  of  these  being  marked  simply  “ mountains,”  and  the 
other  on  the  north  designated  as  “Carasaga  mountain.” 
This  last  no  doubt  meant  what  is  now  meant  as  Kearsarge 
mountain,  and  from  this  word  is  now  claimed  to  have  come 
the  present  name.  A place  that  might  apply  to  the  plains 
of  Boscawen  is  dignified  with  the  designation  of  “ brave 
land,”  a spot  so  associated  with  the  memory  of  the  ancient 
Amerinds  for  some  especial  reason.  A few  miles  above 
this  place  the  Winnipesaukee  and  Pemigewasset  rivers  is 
marked,  the  last  traced  for  some  distance,  while  the  former, 
designated  as  “ Winepisocke  River,”  is  followed  to  the  great 
lake,  here  set  down  as  “ Winp.  Pond.” 

These  constitute  the  configurations  of  the  outline  map, 
there  being  no  white  man’s  hamlet  to  note  on  the  entire 
distance,  but  only  an  unbroken  wilderness  and  its  primeval 
features.  Such  in  brief  comprises  the  accounts  of  the  first 
survey  of  the  Merrimack.  All  calculations  in  regard  to 
the  country  must  have  been  based  upon  this  survey,  until 
on  May  31,  1652,  the  court  ordered  Captains  Willard  and 
Johnson  to  undertake  their  work  in  establishing  the  north- 
ern line  of  the  Massachusetts  jurisdiction. 


lioating  W>ap$  anil  ftiber  /p^en 


O PERIOD  in  the  history  of  the  busy  Merrimack 
from  the  morning  of  July  17,  1605,  when  it  was 
discovered  by  De  Champlain,  to  the  present  date,  is 
fraught  with  more  exciting  interest  than  the  boat- 
ing days  of  the  first  half  of  this  century  and  immediately 
preceding  the  appearance  on  its  banks  of  the  iron  horse, 
which  was  to  bring  such  a revolution  in  the  methods  of 
traffic.  Boston  had  already  become  a promising  metropolis 
of  twenty  thousand  inhabitants,  while  all  along  the  north- 
ward course,  as  far  north  as  Concord,  N.  H.,  thriving  vil- 
lages had  come  into  existence,  demanding  increased  busi- 
ness facilities  and  better  and  cheaper  means  of  transporta- 
tion than  were  afforded  by  the  slow-moving  ox  trains,  or  the 
desultory  rafting  on  the  river  practiced  to  uncertain  extents 
at  occasional  intervals.  But  before  the  stream  could  be 
successfully  utilized  as  an  inland  maritime  highway,  the  pas- 
sage of  its  falls  must  be  rendered  feasible  by  locks,  and  the 
rocky  shallows  and  devious  windings  escaped  by  artificial 
waterways. 

The  first  step  in  this  direction  was  the  building  of  the 
Middlesex  canal,  which  was  projected  by  Hon.  James  Sulli- 
van and  begun  in  1794,  to  be  completed  in  1803.  This 
waterway  stopped  at  what  is  now  known  as  Middlesex  vil- 
lage, about  two  miles  above  Lowell,  and  was  twenty-seven 
miles  in  length.  Immediately  upon  its  completion  other 
companies  and  individuals,  aided  more  or  less  by  the  Middle- 
sex corporation,  undertook  to  continue  the  work  of  making 
the  river  navigable  by  building  locks,  dams  and  canals 
wffiere  needed,  until  a point  two  miles  north  of  Concord  was 

34 


THE  MERRIMACK  RIVER 


35 


reached — fifty-two  miles  in  length — Judge  Samuel  Blodget 
fitly  completing  the  great  scheme  of  engineering  by  his 
canal  of  Amoskeag,  which  was  formally  opened  on  May 
Day,  1807.  That  part  of  the  system  below  Amoskeag, 
comprising  the  dams  and  locks  at  Merrill’s  Falls,  near 
Granite  bridge,  and  Griffin’s  Falls  below,  was  done  by  the 
Union  Lock  and  Canal  Company,  superintended  by  Isaac 
Riddle  of  Bedford. 

To  Superintendent  Riddle  belongs  the  credit,  in 
association  with  Major  Caleb  Stark  of  Dunbarton,  of  con- 
structing the  first  canal  boat  that  ever  plied  on  the  Merri- 
mack. The  work  was  done  at  Bedford  Center,  and  the  boat 
was  so  different  from  anything  the  people  had  seen  as  to 
call  forth  numerous  expressions  of  surprise  and  often  of 
ridicule.  The  nearest  approach  to  its  style  of  construction 
that  we  have  now  is  the  flat-bottomed  scow  used  to  bring 
brick  down  the  river  from  Hooksett.  This  odd  craft,  when 
completed,  was  drawn  to  Basswood  Landing  on  the  Piscat- 
aquog,  near  the  bridge,  by  forty  yoke  of  oxen,  and  launched 
amid  the  tremendous  cheering  of  a large  crowd  of  curious 
spectators.  This  boat,  appropriately  named  the  “Experi- 
ment,” was  promptly  loaded  with  lumber  and  started  on  its 
pioneer  trip  to  Boston,  where  it  was  hailed  with  greater 
demonstration  than  at  its  starting  point,  the  firing  of  can- 
non mingling  with  the  “shouts  of  the  spectators.  The  news- 
paper of  the  day,  the  Boston  Centinel  and  Federalist , had  the 
following  notice  concerning  the  arrival  of  Captain  Riddle’s 
boat: 

“Arrived  from  Bedford,  N.  H.,  Canal  Boat  Experiment, 
Isaac  Riddle,  Captain,  via  Merrimack  River  and  Middlesex 
Canal.” 

This  was  in  the  fall  of  1812,  and  Captain  Riddle  imme- 
diately found  himself  beset  with  orders  for  the  shipment  of 
large  contracts  of  lumber  and  merchandise.  His  business 
increased  so  rapidly  that  in  1816  a store  and  boat  house  was 
built  at  Piscataquog  bridge,  and  two  years  later  locks  were 
built  just  above  the  island  at  the  mouth  of  the  river. 


36 


THE  MERRIMACK  RIVER 


While  I haven’t  the  data  at  hand  to  describe  the  inci- 
dent, I am  well  assured  that  a boat  was  built  and  launched 
at  Nashua  at  about  the  same  time,  possibly  a little  earlier 
than  Captain  Riddle  launched  his  “ Experiment.”  Even 
before  his  boat  had  made  its  initial  trip,  the  Merrimack 
Boating  Company  had  been  organized  in  Boston  to  trans- 
port freight  from  that  place  to  Concord  and  way  stations 
through  Middlesex  canal  and  Merrimack  river.  The  first 
boat  belonging  to  this  corporation  was  taken  up  the  river  in 
October,  1814,  and  commenced  on  regular  trips  the  follow- 
ing June.  From  the  beginning  of  operations  by  this  com- 
pany thirty  years  of  uninterrupted  and  successful  boating 
followed  on  the  Merrimack.  It  is  true  passengers  had  to 
depend,  as  before,  on  the  stage  coaches,  but  all  the  products 
of  the  country  were  taken  to  market,  and  such  merchandise 
as  was  needed  brought  up  on  the  return  trip  to  the  places 
along  the  route.  The  granite  in  Quincy  market  building 
was  transported  from  Concord  by  these  boats. 

In  1817  steam  power  was  unsuccessfully  applied  and 
the  project  abandoned  after  one  trial.  But  later  a steamer 
called  the  “ Herald”  was  built  above  Pawtucket  Falls, 
launched  in  1834,  and  made  regular  trips  between  Lowell 
and  Nashua,  when  Lowell  had  but  fourteen  thousand  inhab- 
itants and  Nashua  only  a few  hundred.  In  1838  she  was 
lengthened  to  ninety  feet,  and  would  carry  five  hundred 
passengers.  In  1840  she  was  floated  over  the  falls  to 
Newburyport  and  thence  taken  to  New  York,  where  she 
was  run  as  a ferry  boat  between  New  York  city  and 
Brooklyn.* 

The  boating  season  opened  as  soon  as  the  river  was 
clear  of  ice  in  the  spring  and  continued  until  cold  weather. 
Five  days  were  consumed  in  the  upward  trip  and  four  days 
in  going  down  the  river.  Twenty  tons  were  considered  an 
average  load  as  far  as  Lowell,  and  fifteen  tons  above  that 
point,  except  during  low  water,  when  not  more  than  half 
that  burden  could  be  carried.  At  the  beginning,  Si 3- 5° 


*G.  B.  Griffith. 


WITH  WIND  AND  CURRENT 


BOAT  ENTERING  LOCKS 


MOVING  UP  THE  RIVER 


THE  MERRIMACK  RIVER 


37 


was  the  charge  for  up  freight  to  the  extreme  landing  in 
Concord,  and  $8.50  for  down  transportation;  but  these 
prices  were  gradually  reduced,  until  in  1838  only  $5  and  $4 
were  the  respective  charges.  The  total  amount  of  business 
done  during  the  years  1816-1842  was  $468,756,  going  up- 
ward, and  $220,940  downward.  Before  the  boating  began 
$20  a ton  was  charged  by  teams  for  the  entire  route. 

The  Merrimack  Boating  Company  was  succeeded  by 
the  Concord  Boating  Company  in  1823,  and  that  in  turn 
gave  up  business  in  1844.  The  largest  number  of  boats 
believed  to  be  on  the  river  at  any  one  time  was  twenty. 
These  boats,  built  to  meet  the  peculiar  requirements  of 
river  navigation,  were  not  less  than  forty-five  or  over 
seventy-five  feet  in  length,  and  from  nine  to  nine  and  one- 
half  feet  in  width  at  the  middle.  Those  on  the  Merrimack 
were  generally  of  the  greatest  length,  nine  feet  wide  at 
midway,  but  a little  narrower  toward  the  ends,  flat-bottomed 
across  the  center  but  rounded  up  at  bow  and  stern,  so  that 
while  they  were  three  feet  deep  at  mid-length  the  sides 
were  barely  a foot  high  at  the  extremities.  Two-inch  pine 
planks  were  used  in  their  construction,  these  being  fastened 
to  three-by-four-inch  cross  joints  and  side  knees  of  oak, 
with  cross  timbers  of  the  same  wood  at  the  ends.  The 
seams  were  calked  with  oakum  and  pitched.  No  cross 
thwarts  were  needed,  but  a stout  plank  nailed  across  from  side 
to  side  about  a foot  forward  of  midway  served  the  double  pur- 
pose of  strengthening  the  boat  and  affording  support  to  a 
mast  raised  to  carry  a square  sail  attached  to  a cross-yard, 
and  which  under  favorable  circumstances  could  be  made  to 
assist  in  the  propulsion  of  the  heavily  loaded  boat.  These 
spars  varied  somewhat  in  length,  being  from  twenty  to 
twenty-four  feet  long  and  six  inches  in  diameter  at  the  foot. 
A rope  running  through  a single  block  at  the  top  enabled 
the  boatman  to  hoist  or  lower  the  sail  at  will. 

The  main  means  of  propulsion  against  the  current 
were  the  setting  poles  in  the  hands  of  two  strong  bowmen, 
who  were  assisted,  at  such  times  as  his  attention  was  not 


38 


THE  MERRIMACK  RIVER 


occupied  in  steering  the  unweildy  craft,  by  the  skipper  in 
the  stern.  These  poles,  commonly  called  pike  poles,  were 
fifteen  feet  long,  two  inches  in  diameter  and  made  round 
and  smooth  out  of  the  best  ash  wood,  with  the  lower  end 
armed  with  an  iron  point.  At  intervals,  between  the  canals, 
when  a favoring  breeze  made  it  practical,  the  sail  was  run 
up  and  gave  material  aid  ; but  after  all  it  was  the  muscle  of 
the  brawny  pike  men  that  carried  the  heavily  laden  barge 
onward  and  upward  toward  its  destination. 

The  peculiar  method  of  propulsion  is  thus  described 
by  one  who  was  familiar  with  the  work : “To  propel  the 
boat  by  poling,  a bowman  stood  on  either  side  of  the  bow, 
with  his  face  toward  the  stern,  and  thrusting  the  pike  end 
of  his  pole  down  beside  the  boat  in  a slanting  direction 
toward  the  stern  until  it  struck  the  bottom  of  the  river,  he 
placed  his  shoulder  against  the  top  of  the  pole,  and,  with 
his  feet  braced  against  the  cross  timbers  in  the  bottom 
of  the  boat,  he  exerted  the  strength  of  his  body  and  legs 
to  push  the  boat  forward.  As  it  moved,  he  stepped  along 
the  bottom  of  the  boat,  still  bracing  his  shoulder  firmly 
against  the  pole,  until  he  had  walked  in  this  manner  to  the 
mast  board — or,  rather,  until  the  movement  of  the  boat  had 
brought  the  mast  board  to  him.  He  then  turned  around 
and  walked  to  the  bow,  trailing  the  pole  in  the  water,  thrust 
it  again  to  the  bottom  of  the  river  and  repeated  the  pushing 
movement.”  It  must  be  understood  that  the  cargo  was 
piled  along  the  middle  of  the  boat  so  as  to  allow  of  a 
narrow  passageway  on  each  side. 

The  passage  down  the  stream  was  of  course  easier  and 
more  rapid,  the  men  relying  principally  on  scull  oars  for 
means  of  propulsion,  these  oars  being  about  the  same 
length  as  the  poles,  with  six-inch  blades  on  the  lower  por- 
tion. The  oarsmen  stood  close  to  either  side  of  the  boat, 
and  about  six  feet  from  the  bow,  each  working  his  oar 
against  a thole  pin  fastened  on  the  opposite  gunwale,  and, 
the  oar  handles  crossing,  it  was  necessary  that  they  be 
worked  together,  which  moved  the  craft  evenly  on  its  way. 


THE  MERRIMACK  RIVER 


39 


The  steering  oar  was  nearly  twenty  feet  long,  and 
secured  at  the  middle  to  a pivot  on  the  stern  cross  timber. 
The  blade  was  about  twenty  inches  in  width,  and  this  like 
the  others  was  made  of  the  toughest  and  strongest  ash. 
The  steersman  at  his  post  in  the  stern  had  his  pike  pole  and 
sculling  oar  at  hand  to  lend  such  assistance  as  he  could  to 
the  bowmen,  whenever  he  was  not  occupied  in  guiding  the 
boat  along  the  laborious  course. 

The  agent  at  Concord  lower  landing  hired  the  men 
making  up  the  crews  of  the  company,  from  $16  to  $26  a 
month  being  paid.  A large  proportion  of  these  boatmen 
were  from  Manchester  and  Litchfield.  Brought  up  in  the 
knowledge  and  experience  of  fishing  at  the  Falls  and  raft- 
ing lumber  down  the  river,  they  were  superior  boatmen. 
Among  them  was  Joseph  M.  Rowell,  who  had  been  a rafts- 
man, and  of  whom  it  is  related  as  a specimen  of  what  might 
be  required  of  a man  in  that  capacity,  that  he  rafted  in  one 
day  two  lots  of  lumber  from  Curtis  eddy,  nearly  opposite 
No.  5 Amoskeag  Mill,  to  Litchfield,  nine  miles,  and  walked 
back  each  time  with  a forty-pound  scull  oar  on  his  shoulder. 
For  this  day’s  double  work  he  got  three  dollars.  Despite 
the  hardships  of  his  earlier  life,  Mr.  Rowell  lived  to  a good 
old  age. 

Among  the  best  known  of  the  river  men  was  Capt. 
Israel  Merrill,  who  had  the  distinction  of  being  pilot  of  the 
steamer  that  made  its  “experimental”  trip  up  the  river  in 
1817.  He  was  a tall,  powerful  man,  of  whom  many  remi- 
niscences of  bravery  and  hardihood  are  still  related.  He  re- 
ceived a gold  medal  for  saving  two  men  from  drowning  in 
the  river,  at  the  imminent  risk  of  losing  his  own  life.  John 
McCutchens,  afloat  on  a raft  of  lumber  above  Eel  Falls, 
and  finding  it  getting  beyond  his  control,  leaped  into  the 
water  to  attempt  to  swim  to  the  bank.  Unable  to  do  this 
he  was  carried  over  the  dam  built  just  above  the  falls,  but 
managed  to  catch  upon  a wooden  pin  on  the  top  of  the 
planking.  Captain  Merrill,  seeing  his  perilous  situation, 
swam  down  to  the  place  and  pulled  him  to  a rock,  from 


40 


THE  MERRIMACK  RIVER 


which  they  were  rescued  soon  after  by  some  men  in  a boat. 
Matthew  McCurdy  fell  into  Pulpit  stream  and  was  swept 
down  against  a jam  of  logs,  where  he  clung  until  Captain 
Merrill  swam  to  his  assistance.  It  was  the  same  redoubt- 
able captain  who  made  the  long-talked-of  race  with  another 
boatman  from  Concord  to  Boston,  coming  in  at  the  end  of 
this  eighty-one-mile  stubbornly  contested  trial  a boat’s 
length  ahead  of  his  rival,  who  paid  for  his  folly  by  the  loss 
of  his  life  from  over-exertion. 

The  quickest  trip  of  which  there  is  record  was  made  in 
1833  by  Samuel  Hall,  John  Ray,  and  Joseph  M.  Rowell, 
who  started  with  a boatload  of  men  from  the  mouth  of 
Piscataquog  river  at  eight  o’clock  on  the  morning  of  June 
30,  went  to  Medford,  into  Medford  river,  back  into  Mid- 
dlesex canal  and  into  Boston,  got  a load  of  goods  and 
reached  home  on  the  evening  of  July  3,  having  been  only 
four  days  on  the  trip  and  return.  The  last  boat  on  the 
Middlesex  canal  made  its  final  trip  in  1851. 

As  a rule  travel  was  suspended  at  sunset,  the  men 
planning  so  as  to  be  near  one  of  the  convenient  stopping- 
places  along  the  route  at  nightfall.  The  passage  of  the 
Middlesex  canal  consumed  one  day;  another  enabled  them 
to  reach  Cromwell’s  Falls,  fifteen  miles  this  side;  the  third 
took  them  through  Amoskeag  locks  ; and  the  fourth,  every- 
thing proving  exceptionally  favorable,  found  them  at  their 
destination.  The  rendezvous  at  Amoskeag  was  the  old 
Blodget  house,  kept  respectively  by  Samuel  P.  Kidder, 
“Jim  ” Griffin,  and  Frederick  G.  Stark. 

Samuel  P.  Kidder  was  the  first  agent  appointed  by  the 
boating  company  to  superintend  the  Union  canals  and  col- 
lect tolls,  continuing  until  his  death  in  1822,  when  he  was 
succeeded  by  Frederick  G.  Stark,  who  held  the  position  to 
1837.  The  books  kept  by  both  these  agents  are  now  in 
the  possession  of  Frederick  G.  Stark,  of  Manchester,  a 
nephew  of  the  first  named.  Through  his  courtesy  the 
writer  has  examined  the  several  volumes,  and  gives  the  fol- 


BOATING  DAYS  AND  RIVER  MEN 


41 


lowing  extract  to  illustrate  the  methods  and  amount  of 
business : 


“No.  97  Daniel  Jones 

18  Shotts. 

“ July  8,  1829 

“Bow  Canal  103M  Pine  Lumber  and  Timber 

at  34 

35.02 

“62M  Shingles 

at  03 

1.86 

— 

#36.88 

“ Hooksett  Canal  103M  Pine  Lumber  and  Timber 

at  18 

18.54 

“62M  Shingles 

at  2 

1.24 

19.78 

— 

“ Amoskeag  Canal  103M  Pine  Lumber  and  Timber 

at  50 

5X*5° 

“62M  Shingles 

at  6 

372 

— 

55.22 

$m.88 

“ Paid  July  28th.” 

The  amount  of  business  for  the 

month 

of  October, 

1821,  was  $759.80  ; while  for  the  same  month  in  1831 

it  was 

$1,598.65,  having  more  than  doubled  in  the  decade. 

Accidents  were  less  common  than  might  have  been  ex- 
pected. One  boat  capsized  at  Goffe’s  Falls,  and  Edward 
Killicut  was  killed.  Another  was  carried  over  Amoskeag 
Falls,  a yoke  of  oxen  attached  to  it  being  saved  from  the 
same  fate  by  the  presence  of  mind  of  Joseph  M.  Rowell, 
who  rushed  into  the  water  and  cut  the  rope  that  held  them. 

In  the  midst  of  the  bustle  and  hard-earned  success  of 
these  stalwart  sons  of  old-time  progress  came  the  announce- 
ment of  that  new  power  which  was  to  rob  them  of  their 
means  of  livelihood.  Naturally  this  aroused  bitter  opposi- 
tion on  their  part,  and  as  an  illustration  of  the  reluctance 
of  the  spirit  of  the  times  to  accept  the  new  way  for  the  old, 
the  Boston  Transcript  of  September  1,  1830,  said:  “It  is 
not  astonishing  that  so  much  reluctance  exists  against 
plunging  into  doubtful  speculation.  The  public  is  itself 
divided  as  to  the  practicability  of  the  railroad.”  A member 
of  the  Massachusetts  legislature  was  on  record  as  saying  : 
“ Railroads,  Mr.  Speaker,  may  do  well  enough  in  the  old 
countries,  but  will  never  be  the  thing  for  so  young  a coun- 


42 


THE  MERRIMACK  RIVER 


try  as  this.  When  you  can  make  the  rivers  run  back  it  will 
be  time  enough  to  make  railways.”  The  waters  of  the 
Merrimack  continued  to  run  according  to  the  laws  of  gravi- 
tation, but  the  railroad,  in  spite  of  all  human  opposition, 
came,  and,  like  an  avenging  Nemesis,  followed  almost  identi- 
cally in  the  tracks  of  the  skeleton  of  departed  greatness, — 
the  canals,  which  had  made  its  coming  possible. 

There  is  no  doubt  that  the  adventurous  lives  led  by  the 
boatmen  tended  to  bring  out  the  rougher  element  of  their 
natures,  and  a considerable  number  drank,  gambled  and 
entered  zealously  into  the  more  boisterous  sports ; but  they 
were  always  faithful  to  duty,  kind-hearted  to  a fellow-being 
in  distress,  and  many  of  them  carried  beneath  their  coarse 
jackets  more  than  an  average  allowance  of  real  manhood. 
They  belonged  to  a very  necessary  class  of  citizens  in  their 
day,  but  which  in  the  evolution  of  the  swiftly  following 
years  has  been  supplanted  by  another,  and  only  a memory 
of  their  usefulness  remains.  The  shriek  of  the  car  whistle 
ended  the  boatman’s  song,  while  his  inspiring  watchword,  as 
he  toiled  laboriously  toward  the  upper  waters  of  old  Amos- 
keag,  **  One  more  stroke  for  old  Derryfield,”  found  its  death 
knell  in  the  heartless  snort  of  the  iron  horse,  which  threw 
at  once  those  hardy  men  out  of  the  only  employment  they 
knew.  Here  and  there  some  shattered  landmark  dimly  re- 
mains to  remind  us  of  them  and  their  gigantic  work,  but 
the  wooden  dams  and  locks  have  long  since  crumbled  away, 
the  canals  have  been  filled  and  their  banks  leveled,  while 
the  icy  floods  of  spring  have  played  such  sad  havoc  with 
the  granite  abutments  that  even  they  fail  to  stand  as  their 
monument. 


'Cfce  ^tone  3Ege 


Dark  as  the  frost-nipped  leaves  that  strew  the  ground, 
The  Indian  hunter  here  his  shelter  found ; 

Here  cut  his  bow  and  shaped  his  arrows  true, 

Here  built  his  wigwam  and  his  bark  canoe, 

Speared  the  quick  salmon  leaping  up  the  fall, 

And  slew  the  deer  without  the  rifle  ball ; 

Here  the  young  squaw  her  cradling  tree  would  choose, 
Singing  her  chant  to  hush  her  swart  papoose ; 

Here  stain  her  quills,  and  string  her  trinkets  rude, 

And  weave  her  warrior’s  wampum  in  the  wood. 

— Brainard. 


jOWEVER  antiquarians  may  differ  in  regard  to  a 
settlement  of  the  question,  and  whatever  may 
have  been  the  origin  of  the  race  of  people  inhab- 
iting North  America  at  the  time  of  the  arrival  of  Europeans, 
there  is  evidence  to  show  that  the  Amerinds  presented 
varying  types  of  humanity.  Owing  to  the  utter  lack  of  any 
fixed  boundary,  and  the  occasional  intermarriage  of  mem- 
bers of  different  tribes,  many  have  been  led  to  believe  that 
they  sprang  from  a common  parentage,  so  it  is  only  on 
philological  grounds  that  any  division  can  be  made.  A 
prominent  writer  upon  this  subject  (Dr.  R.  G.  Thwaites) 
makes  four  branches,  with  as  many  distinct  languages,  sub- 
divided into  innumerable  dialects,  of  the  races  inhabiting  the 
country  east  of  the  Rocky  Mountains  to  the  Atlantic 

43 


44 


THE  MERRIMACK  RIVER 


Ocean,  and  from  Hudson  Bay  to  the  Gulf  of  Mexico. 
The  most  numerous  of  these,  and  at  one  time  the  most 
powerful,  were  the  Algonquins,  holding  the  territory  from 
the  Gulf  of  St.  Lawrence  westward  to  the  Mississippi 
River,  and  from  the  “debatable  ground,”  on  the  banks  of 
the  Ohio  River  northward  to  the  shore  of  Hudson  Bay. 
Taken  together,  or  singly,  the  tribes  or  families  making  this 
great  body  of  aborigines  occupy  a larger  place  in  our  early 
history  than  all  others.  While  this  fact  was  due  largely  to 
their  situation,  which  brought  them  first  into  combat  with  the 
pale-face  invaders  before  the  fire  and  ardor  of  primitive  life 
had  been  sapped  by  contact  with  the  enervating  influences 
of  civilization,  it  was  also  owing  to  their  warlike  disposi- 
tion. Unlike  the  “Five  Nations”  of  the  Genesee  valley, 
they  lacked  the  unity  of  strength  obtained  by  confederation, 
and  often  the  tribes  making  up  their  vast  numbers  were  at 
war  with  each  other.  It  has  been  estimated  that  they  num- 
bered, altogether,  from  fifty  to  one  hundred  thousand. 
Against  them  all,  whether  living  in  the  valley  of  the  St. 
Lawrence  or  along  the  smaller  streams  of  New  England, 
the  fiery  Iroquois  were  arrayed  for  many  generations.*- 
With  the  above  declaration  it  is,  perhaps,  unnecessary 
to  say  that  the  Indians  of  the  Merrimack  valley  belonged 
to  this  numerous  clan.  If,  as  a whole,  the  tribes  of  New 
England  failed  to  unite  in  any  sort  of  a confederacy,  four 
families  living  in  the  Merrimack  valley  and  adjacent  formed 
a tribal  union.  These  comprised  the  Nashuas,  dwelling 
along  the  river  which  perpetuates  their  name ; the  Squam- 


* The  Iroquois  league  numbering  over  ten  thousand  persons  and  two  thousand  warriors, 
consisted  originally  of  a confederacy  of  five  kindred  tribes,  the  Mohawk,  Oneida,  Onondaga, 
Cayuga  and  Seneca,  in  what  is  now  the  state  of  New  York.  To  these  were  added  the  cognate 
Tuscarora  alter  their  expulsion  from  Carolina,  about  1715.  The  name  Iroquois,  by  which 
they  were  known  to  the  French,  is  supposed  to  be  a derivative  from  some  Indian  term.  To 
the  English  they  were  known  as  the  Five,  afterwards  the  Six,  Nations.  They  called  them- 
selves by  a name  commonly  spelled  Hodenosaunee,  and  interpreted  “ People  of  the  Long 
House.”  Of  this  symbolic  long  house  the  Mohawk  guarded  the  eastern  door,  while  the  Seneca 
protected  the  western,  according  to  “American  Ethnology,”  Vol.  IX.  From  their  position  it 
will  be  seen  that  it  was  natural  that  the  Mohawks,  the  most  warlike  of  all  these  clans,  should 
become  the  invaders  of  New  England. — Editor. 


IN  THE  TWILIGHT  OF  THE  STONE  AGE 


THE  STONE  AGE 


45 


scotts,  a small  inland  family  located  where  is  now  Exeter ; 
the  Newichawannocks,  on  the  Piscataqua  River,  and  the 
Penacooks,  living  in  the  valley  of  the  Merrimack  and  num- 
bering about  three  thousand,  being  the  ruling  tribe.  Their 
most  noted  chief  or  sagamore  was  Passaconnaway. 

This  small  confederacy  of  wildwood  hunters  and  war- 
riors maintained  a certain  form  of  government  for  a longer 
period  than  there  is  even  tradition  to  show,  and  were  in 
truth  the  pioneers  of  aboriginal  progress.  Occupying  one 
of  the  most  favorable  regions  for  fishing  and  hunting,  and 
located  upon  the  debatable  ground  between  the  fiery  Mic- 
macs  of  the  East  and  the  lordly  Mohawks  of  the  West, 
they  were  frequently  called  upon  to  brave  the  battle  against 
powerful  foes.  Here  was  sounded  the  wild  alarum  of  con- 
quest from  enemies  that  never  slept ; here,  from  the  high- 
lands of  the  River  of  Broken  Waters  to  the  Isles  of  Mona, 
was  borne  aloft  the  tocsin  of  war;  here  wound  the  wartrails 
of  dusky  nations  that  fought,  bled  and  perished  in  the 
same  cause  which  has  wrung  tears  from  the  old  earth  since 
it  was  young.  This  was  in  truth  the  Thessaly  of  olden 
New  England. 

From  out  of  the  misty  background  of  tradition  rise  the 
stalwart  figures  of  that  period  not  inaptly  styled  the  Stone 
Age  of  the  Merrimack.  ^ Among  them  appears  the  stately 
Kenewa,  mustering  his  dusky  legion,  to  lead  it  forth  to 
anticipated  conquest,  only  to  be  swallowed  up  by  the  hun- 
gry wilderness  as  was  Varus  and  his  Romans  in  the  old 
Germanic  forest.  Then  the  valiant  Winnemet  rallied 
around  him  his  gallant  followers  in  his  desperate  endeavor 
to  stem  the  tide  of  his  Waterloo  upon  the  Brave  Lands  of 
Penacook,  falling  at  last  encircled  by  the  slain  of  his  “ old 
guard”  of  the  Penacooks.  Now  the  magnanimous  Passa- 
connaway, reading  in  the  signs  of  the  times  the  destiny  in 
store  for  his  people,  taught  them  it  was  better  to  condone 
the  wrongs  of  a stronger  race  than  to  combat  a hopeless 
fate.  Here,  the  curtain  fallen  on  the  closing  scene  of 
pagan  warfare,  Wannalancet,  the  last  great  sachem  of  the 


46 


THE  MERRIMACK  RIVER 


Stone  Age,  called  about  him  his  few  scattered  followers,  to 
lead  them  to  that  rendezvous  under  the  French  protection 
upon  the  bank  of  the  St.  Lawrence,  returning  a few  years 
later  that  his  dust  might  mingle  with  the  ashes  of  his  father. 
Here,  sacrificing  every  hope  and  ambition  for  his  race, 
brave  Merruwacomet  fought  and  fell  in  the  interest  of  an 
alien  people,  his  heroic  deeds  unsung.  Here,  too,  in  the 
gloaming  of  that  long  day,  came  the  lonely  Christo,  to  con- 
secrate with  the  tears  of  a warrior  the  graves  of  his  sires, 
the  ashes  of  his  race,  No  mean  knights  of  chivalry  these, 
sons  of  the  Stone  Age,  every  hero  of  them  worthy  to  stand 
shoulder  to  shoulder  with  the  best  of  the  Old  World 
champions. 

This  is  no  place  to  discuss  the  rights  or  wrongs  of  the 
races,  though  there  can  be  no  harm  in  reminding  the  con- 
queror that  not  so  very  many  generations  ago  his  own 
ancestors  lurked  sullenly  in  the  caverns  of  the  earth,  and 
came  forth  clad  in  the  skins  of  wild  beasts.  It  was  related 
by  one  of  the  pioneers  of  the  Merrimack  valley  that,  while 
abroad  one  night  upon  the  river  bank,  he  discovered  an 
Indian  approaching  upon  his  hands  and  knees.  A friendly 
motion  of  the  hand  of  the  dusky  scout  caused  the  white 
man  to  wait  his  approach.  With  his  fingers  upon  his  lips 
to  enjoin  silence,  the  latter  whispered: 

“ Me  watch  to  see  the  deer  kneel.” 

Then  it  occurred  to  the  narrator  that  it  was  Christmas 
Eve,  and  he  realized  that  in  the  simplicity  of  his  new-found 
belief  the  red  man  was  expecting  at  that  sacred  hour  to  see 
the  deer  come  forth  from  the  forest  to  fall  upon  their  knees 
in  silent  adoration  of  the  Great  Spirit.  Truly  that  race 
cannot  be  lost  to  Omnipotent  justice  who,  in  its  honesty  of 
faith,  looks  through  Nature’s  eyes  up  to  God. 

The  glory  of  the  Stone  Age  was  at  its  zenith  in  the 
early  reign  of  Passaconnaway.  It  had  begun  its  decline  a 
little  prior  to  the  landing  of  the  Pilgrims  at  Plymouth  Rock, 
when  a terrible  epidemic  swept  over  the  tribes  of  New 
England,  in  many  cases  reducing  populous  communities  to 


RELICS  OF  THE  STONE  AGE 


THE  STONE  AGE 


47 


little  bands  of  forlorn  survivors.  But  the  people  of  the 
Stone  Age  in  all  probability  would  have  recovered  from 
this  calamity,  in  the  due  course  of  time,  as  they  had  rallied 
from  other  disasters.  From  the  fell  power  of  the  enervat- 
ing influences  of  the  white  man  there  was  no  hope.  So  the 
period  begins  beyond  the  twilight  of  tradition  and  ends  with 
the  rising  of  the  sun  of  civilization.  While  it  makes  a dark 
page  on  the  historic  scroll  of  the  ages,  it  was  not  wholly 
lost  to  light  and  intelligence;  while  primitive  in  its  results 
as  compared  to  the  present,  it  was  almost  as  far  from 
primeval  effort  as  the  age  which  had  preceded  it.  If  the 
research  of  the  philologist  has  not  been  in  vain,  they  but 
followed  an  inferior  race,  as  they  were  succeeded  by  one 
superior,  and  if  passing  from  the  scene  monumentless,  yet 
they  did  leave  behind  them  traces  and  names  which  shall 
live  as  long  as  the  American  Republic  may  stand,  while 
that  other  aborigine  left  not  even  an  arrow  head  to  show  to 
coming  races  how  dim  are  the  footsteps  of  human  progress. 

Personally,  the  sons  of  the  Stone  Age  were  men  of  tall, 
straight  figure,  dusky-hued  skin,  coal-black  hair,  beardless 
faces,  high  cheek  bones,  a nose  long  and  prominent,  eyes 
small  but  dark  and  piercing,  capable  of  watching  the  eagle’s 
flight  under  the  glare  of  the  midday  sun  without  flinching. 
They  moved  silently  ahchswiftly  along  the  dim  aisles  of  the 
forest  archways,  by  placing  one  foot  directly  in  front  of  the 
other,  swerving  neither  to  the  right  nor  left.  Their  cos- 
tumes consisted  mainly  of  deer  skin  leggins,  skin  robes  or 
hunting  shirts  in  winter,  and  moccasins,  also  of  deer  skin, 
the  primitive  garb  made  more  picturesque  by  fringes  along 
the  seams  and  ornaments  painted  in  bright  hues  upon  the 
garments.  Their  principal  weapon  was  a long  stout  bow  of 
hornbeam  or  some  equally  strong  wood,  which  sent  an 
arrow  with  flint  or  stone  head  a great  distance,  and  in  their 
hands  with  unerring  accuracy.  For  closer  attack  and 
defense  they  made  a spear  or  lance,  with  shaft  of  stout 
wood  finished  at  the  end  with  a sharp  rock-point.  If  the 
engagement  became  hand-to-hand  they  were  armed  with 


48 


THE  MERRIMACK  RIVER 


the  tomahawk  made  of  a small  flat  stone,  attached  to  a 
stout  handle  of  wood.  These  weapons,  with  a knife  of 
stone,  sometimes  of  bone  or  flint,  comprised  their  principal 
weapons  and  utensils  of  war  and  chase.  But  along  with 
these  came  many  other  implements  and  instruments  of 
manufacture  and  invention  worthy  of  description. 

For  their  own  protection,  if  not  from  social  motives, 
and  there  is  no  proof  to  show  that  the  American  Indians 
were  not  a social  people,  the  inhabitants  of  the  Merrimack 
valley  in  the  period  of  the  Stone  Age  lived  mainly  in 
groups  or  lodgments  along  the  banks  of  their  cherished 
river.  By  this  it  must  not  be  supposed  that,  at  some  time 
or  other,  every  section  of  the  state  was  not  penetrated  by 
these  people,  and  the  finding  of  relics  of  their  use  in  the 
most  remote  parts  of  the  state  shows  that  they  dwelt  there 
for  a time  of  greater  or  less  extent. 

Living  in  villages  or  towns,  as  we  should  know  it, 
these  warriors  became  banded  together,  had  their  regular 
leaders  and  a rude  form  of  government.  Their  towns  were 
usually  built  with  regard  to  a favorable  position  for  fishing, 
hunting,  clearings  for  agriculture  and  where  they  could  be 
best  protected  from  an  enemy,  which  was  likely  to  sweep 
down  upon  them  at  any  hour.  There  were  few  if  any  days 
when  scouts  were  not  on  the  lookout  for  the  appearance  of 
strangers  who  might  be  looked  upon  with  distrust. 

Their  dwellings,  called  wigwams,  derived  from  wig-was, 
meaning  “bark  dwelling,”  were  built  by  setting  small  sap- 
lings or  branches  of  trees  in  the  ground  in  a circular  form, 
the  tops  bent  so  as  to  meet  and  form  a conical  wall.  This 
rough  framework  was  then  covered  with  bark  or  mats  o 
skins,  except  at  the  crest,  where  a small  aperture  was  left 
for  the  smoke  of  the  fire  within  to  escape  through.  The 
doorway,  a skin  answering  the  purpose  of  a door,  was  an 
opening  upon  the  sunny  side  of  this  primitive  structure, 
usually  an  opening  on  the  opposite  side  being  made  so  tha 
in  case  the  wind  blew  from  the  other  course  it  might  be 
opened  and  this  one  closed. 


SCRAPERS,  KNIVES  AND  DISH 


THE  STONE  AGE 


49 


As  among  the  men  of  to-day,  there  seem  to  have  been 
different  grades  of  dwellings,  and  the  sachem  usually  dwelt  in 
a more  pretentious  abode.  Skins  of  greater  value  adorned 
his  couch,  and  linings  of  mats  hung  upon  the  walls  of  his 
house.  These  were  also  ornamented  with  cunning  devices 
wrought  by  the  deft  fingers  of  his  squaw,  as  well  as  the 
fruits  of  many  a chase  or  wartrail.  The  capital  or  chief 
village  of  the  confederation  of  the  Merrimack  valley  was 
near  the  “ Brave  Lands  ” of  the  Penacooks,  until  they  were 
routed  there  by  the  fiery  Mohawks,  their  long-timeenemies, 
and  forced  to  move  lower  down  the  river. 

The  roads  of  the  sons  of  the  Stone  Age  were  con- 
cealed paths,  denominated  trails,  rather  than  open  high- 
ways, for  these  would  prove  of  advantage  to  those  enemies 
around  them.  They  always  sought,  when  they  could, 
some  waterway  leading  in  that  direction.  Thus  their 
light  skiff,  usually  made  of  birch  bark,  and  which  has 
become  known  as  the  “canoe,”  was  their  favorite  means 
of  travel.  These  canoes  were  made  of  bark  taken  from 
the  birch,  and  sometimes,  but  seldom,  from  the  elm, 
and  were  often  made  with  a delicate  mechanism  that  a 
white  man  would  be  puzzled  to  imitate.  They  were  as  light 
as  an  egg  shell  and  as  airy  as  a feather.  Despite  this  fact 
they  unhesitatingly  setTorth  upon  long  and  perilous  jour- 
neys, stemming  the  rapids  of  some  turbulent  stream  or 
daring  the  dangers  of  an  inland  sea. 

In  winter  the  Indians  resorted  to  a cunning  device, 
claimed  to  have  been  invented  by  a woman,  and  which  has 
been  given  the  name  of  snow  shoes.  By  means  of  these 
they  were  enabled  to  thread  the  dim  old  forest  with  ease  in 
the  midst  of  winter  snows.  In  fact,  it  was  then,  when  the 
undergrowth  and  broken-down  trees  were  banked  under  the 
snow,  that  they  were  able  to  make  their  longest  journeys. 

The  artisan  of  the  Stone  Age  displayed  great  ingenu- 
ity in  the  manner  in  which  he  performed  his  tasks  of  mak- 
ing those  implements  needed  by  him.  Usually  the  mate- 
rial from  which  he  obtained  his  object  was  selected  with 


50 


THE  MERRIMACK  RIVER 


care  in  regard  to  its  fitness  for  his  purpose.  The  ham- 
mer, possibly  the  first  tool  he  designed,  was  made  from 
a stone  not  only  of  a desired  shape  but  of  a finer  and  harder 
texture  than  those  he  would  secure  to  be  beaten  and  pol- 
ished to  answer  other  ends.  The  hammer  made  to  his  liking, 
he  then  fastened  a handle  to  it  by  means  of  a narrow  strip  of 
deer  thong  or  a small,  tough  withe,  and  went  on  with  his 
work,  evolving  one  after  another  of  those  utensils  meeting 
his  needs,  with  the  patience  and  stoicism  of  his  race. 

KNIVES 

There  were  several  varieties  of  implements  which 
might  be  considered  under  this  head,  and  among  them 
were  the  scrapers,  flakers,  celts  and  fleshers.  The  most 
simple  of  these  was  the  flaket,  which  was  often  made  by  a 
single  blow  from  a pebble  against  a rock  inclined  to  split 
apart.  The  piece  of  stone  thus  obtained,  with  usually  more 
or  less  “finishing,”  became  a handy  tool  for  various  pur- 
poses. It  was,  in  fact,  a rude  sort  of  a knife,  and  so  far  as 
it  was  capable  of  being  used  it  took  the  place  of  the  other. 
A great  many  knives  have  been  found  chipped  mostly  on 
one  edge  until  the  desired  quality  of  an  instrument  to  cut 
was  secured.  These  instruments  were  not  often  straight 
along  the  edge  line,  but  slightly  curved  from  one  end  to 
the  other.  The  red  men  had  another  knife  somewhat  re- 
sembling the  “chopping  knife”  of  our  own  mothers. 
These  seem  to  have  been  made  mostly  by  a rude  grinding 
or  scraping  against  a harder  surface.  This  was  no  doubt  a 
woman’s  tool.  Sometimes  the  knife  was  hafted,  and  became 
a very  good  carving  knife  for  cutting  meat  and  other  sub- 
stances found  at  the  primeval  feast. 

THE  SCRAPER 

A writer  upon  this  subject  ventures  the  assertion  that 
“The  scraper  and  its  brother,  the  flaked  knife,  followed 
next  after  the  hammer  in  the  tide  of  evolution.  Whether 


INDIAN  SNOW-SHOES 


THE  STONE  AGE 


51 


his  environment  were  stone,  bone  or  shell,  wherever  his- 
toric man  has  left  his  traces,  these  most  useful  of  tools  are 
found.”  The  scraper  was  not  only  made  to  separate  softer 
substances,  but  it  was  more  frequently  used  as  a rasp  to 
smooth  and  work  into  shape  the  object  upon  which  the 
designer  may  have  been  at  work.  Were  it  a piece  of  stone, 
then  he  used  it  as  a polisher;  if  a skin  that  he  was  prepar- 
ing, it  became  a rubber  to  soften  and  make  flexible  the 
object,  somewhat  as  we  should  use  a piece  of  glass  to 
smooth  wood,  horn  or  bone.  It  was  also  handy  with  the 
dusky  cook  in  enabling  her  to  remove  the  meat  from  the 
bone,  and  otherwise  to  assist  in  preparing  the  food.  One 
face  was  made  flat,  while  the  other  was  raised,  the  end 
pointed  like  an  arrow-head.  It  was  sometimes  hafted  and 
became  a handy  instrument  in  removing  skins  from  ani- 
mals, becoming  a good  separator  as  well  as  a tool  for  cut- 
ting. It  was  used,  too,  for  the  purpose  of  removing  arrow- 
heads from  wounds. 


DRILLS 

Next  to  the  knife  in  importance  among  the  sons  of  the 
Stone  Age  was  the  instrument  for  perforating  or  drilling. 
There  were  two  kinds  of  these  drills  or  augers,  the  most  com- 
mon form  of  which  was  the  pointed  piece  of  rock,  which,  after 
patient  and  careful  drilling,  made  a conical  perforation  in 
the  object.  Usually  these  bores  were  made  from  opposite 
sides  of  the  stone  being  drilled,  the  holes  meeting  at  an 
angle  near  the  center.  Sometimes  the  bore  was  made 
entirely  from  one  side. 


CELTS 

The  celt,  from  celtis , a chisel,  was  ope  of  the  most 
prized  tools  among  the  Amerinds,  and  upon  this  stone 
instrument  the  aboriginal  craftsman  gave  his  most  cunning 
skill  and  painstaking  care.  He  first  rough-hewed  the  stone 
into  something  like  the  shape  desired,  following  which  he 


52 


THE  MERRIMACK  RIVER 


devoted  days  of  patient  work  to  smoothing  and  polishing 
his  favorite  tool.  It  was  sometimes  made  oval  shape  or 
flat,  but  usually  round,  with  a sharp  blade,  formed  symetri- 
cally  from  both  sides.  Occasionally  they  were  grooved, 
but  rarely  so.  Sometimes  a wooden  handle  carefully  fash- 
ioned was  perforated  at  one  end,  and  the  stone  tool,  made 
smaller  at  that  part,  was  driven  into  it  far  enough  to 
become  firm  in  its  socket  There  seem  to  have  been  many 
uses  for  this  handy  tool,  such  as  rubbing  down  skins, 
smoothing  wood,  shaping  the  bow  and  arrow,  and  kindred 
uses,  besides  the  legitimate  calling  of  a chisel.  In  this 
capacity  it  may  have  been  pushed  by  the  hand,  but  there  is 
evidence  to  show  that  it  was  often  used  just  as  our  mechanic 
pounds  his  chisel  with  vigorous  blows  from  his  mallet.  It 
has  been  well  said  by  a writer  upon  the  subject  that 
“ Working  with  no  guide  but  his  eye,  no  tool  but  a stone 
hammer,  and  no  measure  but  his  hand,  one  is  amazed  to  see 
how  perfect  some  of  these  objects  have  been  made.” 

GOUGES 

Similar  to  a certain  extent,  and  next  in  importance 
to  the  red  men  was  the  gouge.  These  of  necessity  were 
made  of  extremely  hard  stone,  and  were  either  grooved  or 
ungrooved,  with  one  face  flat  and  the  other  rounded,  some- 
times acutely.  They  were  hollowed  out  on  the  flat  surface, 
and  brought  to  almost  a semi-circle.  It  is  believed  that 
these  tools  were  used  to  a considerable  extent  in  hollowing 
out  canoes  from  trees. 

Allied  to  the  gouge  was  the  adze,  the  last  having  a 
helve  ingeniously  fashioned  by  two  ridges  making  a raised 
groove  for  helving.  This  handy  tool  had  a sharp  edge,  the 
blade  curved  slightly  on  the  sides. 

PESTLE  AND  MORTAR 

That  student  of  Indian  life,  Schoolcraft,  very  vividly 
pictures  a Penacook  squaw  pounding  corn  in  a mortar  placed 


THE  INDIAN’S  PRIMITIVE  MILL 


THE  STONE  AGE 


53 


in  a position  directly  under  the  branch  of  a tree  from  which 
a pestle  hung  suspended  by  a stout  strip  of  deer  thong. 
Here,  seated  upon  the  ground,  this  industrious  spouse  of  a 
red  man,  while  she  chants  some  ditty,  possibly  a love  song, 
performs  her  task  of  grinding  the  golden  grain  into  a fine 
flour  by  the  assistance  of  the  tree,  the  rebound  of  the  limb 
with  each  successive  blow  lifting  the  primitive  crusher  to  a 
sufficient  height  to  admit  of  a smart  stroke  directed  by  her 
right  hand.  It  is  possible  the  historian  partook  somewhat 
of  the  character  of  a romancer  in  depicting  this  scene,  but 
the  fact  remains  that  it  was  not  improbable.  The  Amer- 
ican Indian  was  nothing  if  not  of  an  inventive  turn  of 
mind.  The  Indian  woman  was  a considerable  factor  in  the 
manufacture  of  the  implements  of  the  Stone  Age,  and  it 
may  be  readily  imagined  that  she  made  most  of  those  which 
applied  to  her  use.  That  the  men  made  certain  of  the 
instruments  and  weapons  needed  by  them  in  war  and  chase 
is  obvious,  but  even  in  these  the  cunning  hand  of  woman  is 
evident. 

Pestles  have  been  frequently  found  in  the  Merrimack 
Valley,  but  do  not  appear  to  have  been  made  with  so  much 
diligence  as  some  of  the  other  utensils.  They  were  seldom 
polished,  except  from  long  use.  Sometimes,  after  having 
been  pecked  into  fine^ shape,  a hole  would  be  drilled  in  the 
lower  end  and  a piece  of  stone  of  a harder  nature  inserted, 
fitting  so  nicely  into  the  perforation  that  years  of  use  failed 
to  loosen  it.  The  mortar  was  frequently  made  of  hard 
wood,  and  perhaps  as  often  of  stone  scooped  out  to  hold 
the  grain.  The  pestle  and  mortar,  if  a very  primitive  mill, 
were  important  utensils  in  the  simple  household  of  the 
aborigines. 

If  other  objects  might  be  omitted  from  the  catalogue 
of  implements  used  by  the  sons  of  the  Stone  Age,  the  pipe 
could  not  be  overlooked.  Whether  a blessing  or  a curse,  it 
is  the  one  legacy  which  he  left  his  conquerors  that  is  likely 
to  remain  with  the  memory  of  him.  He  beyond  doubt 
looked  upon  the  cloud  of  tobacco  smoke  curling  lazily 


54 


THE  MERRIMACK  RIVER 


above  his  dusky  visage  as  an  incense  wafted  reverently  to 
his  invisible  god.  When  he  smoked,  he  first  invoked  the 
divine  blessing,  in  his  untutored  mind,  by  sending  a whiff 
of  the  fragrant  vapor  to  the  four  points  of  the  compass, 
and  finished  by  sending  a fifth  upward  toward  the  throne  of 
the  Most  High.  War  between  tribes  was  frequently  pro- 
claimed by  means  of  a pipe  adorned  with  red  feathers. 
The  struggle  over  treaties  of  peace  and,  it  may  be,  alliance 
were  sealed  in  solemn  compact  by  the  smoking  among  the 
contracting  parties  of  the  pipe  of  peace.  Seldom,  if  ever, 
were  these  compacts  broken.  For  more  than  one  to  smoke 
a pipe  in  succession  meant  terms  of  brotherhood  and  social 
alliance. 

Pipes  of  various  patterns  have  been  found  in  the 
valley,  some  of  them  grotesquely  carved  with  the  image  of 
some  creature,  it  may  have  been  a raven  or  a hideous  imp 
of  unknown  species.  The  raven  in  the  traditions  of  the 
Algonquin  Indians  took  very  much  the  same  position  that 
the  dove  does  in  the  Jewish  legends  of  the  days  of  the 
flood. 

In  his  weapons  of  offense  and  defense,  living  as  he  did 
mainly  by  the  chase,  and  ever  haunted  by  the  grim  skeleton 
of  war,  it  was  natural  the  red  man  should  give  his  best 
specimens  of  skill  as  an  artisan  to  the  manufacture  of  those 
weapons  needed  in  his  most  active  periods. 

THE  BOW  AND  ARROW 

The  bow  and  arrow  afforded  the  dusky  warrior  his 
most  trusted  implement  of  the  chase  of  game  or  on  the 
war-trail  of  his  enemies.  The  arrows,  though  sometimes 
headed  with  wood  or  bone,  jasper  or  flint,  were  usually 
tipped  with  sharp  points  of  stone  chipped  into  the  proper 
shape.  In  the  manufacture  of  these,  a work  usually  rele- 
gated to  the  women,  he  showed  considerable  skill,  though 
it  is  not  certain  how  he  generally  performed  the  task. 
Owing  to  the  number  used  it  must  have  called  for  frequent 
hours  of  patient  toil.  Evidently  such  material  as  could  be 


THE  STONE  AGE 


55 


found,  often  quartz  cobbles,  was  split  into  thin  layers  with 
their  stone  hammers,  assisted  by  stone  wedges.  A writer 
who  has  made  considerable  study  of  this  subject  says : 
“Possibly  they  were  heated  in  pits  and  split  by  cooling 
suddenly  with  water.  Partly  made  implements  were  often 
buried  in  considerable  quantities.  It  is  supposed  that  these 
stones  were  thus  softened  and  rendered  more  tractable.” 
Caches  of  these  finds  have  been  unearthed  in  several  places 
in  the  Merrimack  Valley.  The  layers  of  rock,  when  not 
treated  in  this  manner,  were  slowly  chipped  into  the  de- 
sired shape  and  thickness  by  repeated  blows  from  the  stone 
hammers  of  small  size.  The  writer  already  quoted  believes 
that  bone  or  horn  was  used  as  a chisel  driven  in  with  the 
hammer  to  break  off  little  flakes  from  either  side.  These 
implements  were  designated  as  arrow  flakers,  specimens  of 
which  have  been  found.  The  granite  found  in  New  Hamp- 
shire no  doubt  made  excellent  material  for  the  arrow  and 
spear-head  maker.  Archaeologists  have  considered  these 
points,  whether  notched  so  as  to  be  hafted,  which  have 
been  found  so  plentifully  on  the  banks  of  the  Merrimack, 
to  be  arrow  tips  when  under  two  inches  in  length,  spear 
heads  when  of  greater  length,  until  reaching  a size  suffi- 
cient for  a knife.  There  is  a distinguishing  feature  about 
the  style  or  manner  in-which  these  are  made,  as  well  as  in 
the  difference  of  material  between  one  section  of  the 
country  and  another.  Made,  perhaps,  more  for  the  chase 
than  for  war,  the  Penacooks  showed  more  than  common 
skill  in  the  making  of  arrow-heads,  as  they  did  of  nearly 
everything  else.  There  were  also  two  styles  of  arrows 
used  even  by  them.  One  of  these  was  the  war-points, 
which  were  made  to  be  inserted  into  the  shaft  loosely,  so 
as  to  remain  in  the  wound  of  the  victim,  and  thus  were  not 
notched  or  tanged.  The  arrows  of  the  hunter,  on  the 
other  hand,  were  carefully  inserted  into  the  shaft  and 
fastened  in  place  by  aid  of  the  tang.  These  could  easily 
be  removed  from  the  wounded  animal,  and  the  arrow  intact 
made  to  do  duty  many  times  over. 


56 


THE  MERRIMACK  RIVER 


THE  SPEAR 

Spear-points  were  made  of  hard  stone,  pecked  and 
smoothed  by  the  hammer  and  chisel  until  brought  to  a 
sharp  end.  It  was  tanged  for  hafting,  and  was  attached  to 
its  handle  after  the  manner  of  the  arrow  to  its  shaft.  The 
spear  or  lance  was  a handy  instrument,  and  used  for  vari- 
ous purposes  in  both  war  and  hunting.  Oftentimes  the 
maker  exercised  his  skill  to  a high  degree  in  its  making, 
and  no  doubt  looked  upon  this  as  a favorite  instrument  of 
defense  or  aggression. 

Space  forbids  me  from  entering  into  the  detail  of 
description  of  the  many  and  varied  articles  made  by  the 
sons  of  the  Stone  Age,  or  even  to  give  a complete  list  of 
them.  Besides  those  briefly  mentioned,  the  Amerinds  of 
the  Merrimack  made  among  others,  either  for  ornaments  or 
industrial  purposes,  the  plummet  or  sinker,  used  in  fishing, 
amulets  and  banner  stones  worn  for  personal  protection 
from  real  or  imiginary  evil,  totems  to  distinguish  his  family, 
polishers  to  assist  him  in  the  manufacture  ot  other  instru- 
ments, perforators  to  aid  him  in  piercing  stones  or  other 
objects,  trinkets  of  almost  unending  sorts  as  personal 
adornment. 

I trust  sufficient  has  been  said  to  awaken  an  interest 
in  a subject  that  really  deserves  greater  attention  than  has 
been  given  to  it.  These  vestiges  of  prehistoric  man  are 
rapidly  disappearing,  and  it  is  only  seldom  now  one  picks 
up  a find  of  this  nature.  But  enough  have  been  found  and 
kept  to  prove  to  coming  generations  that  they  were  far  re- 
moved from  savagery,  and  that  even  they  lived  in  an  age  of 
progression.  Not  only  did  they  develop  a remarkable  adept- 
ness in  the  art  of  skilled  labor,  where  the  word  meant  more 
than  it  expresses  to-day,  until  they  left  us,  their  successors, 
those  stone  relics,  silent  yet  speaking  of  centuries  of  patient 
progression  in  a craft  which  called  for  more  than  ordinary 
capacity  to  work  on  and  upward,  but  they  became  the  slow 
and  sure  agent  by  which  was  evolved  from  small  begin- 


RELICS  OF  THE  STONE  AGE 


THE  STONE  AGE 


57 


nings  certain  products  of  the  soil.  From  the  tasteless 
gourd  climbing  its  rocky  bed  in  the  heart  of  the  mountains 
of  the  West  they  developed  the  savory  melon,  which  was 
so  much  prized,  not  only  by  them,  but  by  us.  From  a 
small  berry  growing  wild  they  obtained  the  bean.  Through 
their  assiduous  cultivation  for  a period  of  years  they  im- 
proved the  wild  apple,  until  several  of  the  varieties  that  we 
raise  to-day  came  down  to  us  from  them  as  heirlooms.  Of 
greater  importance  than  either  of  these  achievements 
through  centuries  of  cultivation  and  propagation  they  devel- 
oped from  a wild,  coarse  grass  known  as  maize,  and  growing 
upon  the  shores  of  the  Gulf  of  Mexico,  that  golden  grain 
more  priceless  to  us  than  even  the  mines  of  the  Garden 
of  the  Gods.  Civilization  has  been  aided  by  the  destructive 
forces  of  air  and  earth  to  destroy  the  vestiges  of  these  peo- 
ple who  deserve  more  of  us  than  we  have  been  willing  to 
acknowledge,  but  let  us  garner  into  our  storehouses  of 
treasures  the  best  that  we  find  of  them.  The  wigwam  has 
vanished  with  the  smoke  of  their  council  fire,  the  warwhoop 
long  since  died  out  in  the  valleys,  the  tocsin  of  war  faded 
two  centuries  and  more  ago  from  our  mountain  peaks,  but 
the  etymologist  traces  their  boundary  lines  in  the  names 
upon  our  rivers  arid  hills,  their  fishing  places  upon  our 
ponds  and  lakes,  their  hunting  grounds  in  the  vales  and 
sunny  slopes  that  they  loved.  The  earth-eaten  arrow-head 
and  tomahawk,  the  chisel  and  gouge,  with  the  humbler  in- 
struments of  their  domestic  affairs  point  to  the  patient 
finder  the  site  of  their  long-lost  habitations.  Not  always 
are  the  deeds  of  the  most  worthy  perpetuated  in  song  and 
story ; the  bards  of  Greece  sang  the  prais  $ of  a race  no 
doubt  inferior  to  many  others  whose  triumphs  have  been 
lost  because  there  was  no  fitting  poet  to  immortalize  them 
upon  the  tablets  of  time.  And  though  no  claim  is  put  forth 
to  place  those  of  this  period  among  the  illustrious  heirs  of 
history,  yet  when  we  think  of  primitive  man  as  having  no 
language,  no  shelter  but  the  rocks  and  caverns  of  earth,  no 
food  save  what  nature  provided  in  its  simple  state,  no  imple- 


58 


THE  MERRIMACK  RIVER 


ments  of  work  or  skill,  we  find  that  the  sons  of  the  Stone 
Age  of  the  Merrimack  were  far  removed  from  such  a stage. 
Above  all  was  exhibited  that  trait  which  we  should  revere 
as  a part  of  our  own  nature,  freedom,  of  which  the  poet, 
Charles  Sprague,  has  so  aptly  said : 

“ I venerate  the  Pilgrim’s  cause, 

Yet  for  the  red  man  dare  to  plead. 

We  bow  to  Heaven’s  recorded  laws, 

He  turned  to  Nature  for  a creed; 

Beneath  the  pillared  dome, 

We  seek  our  God  in  prayer; 

Through  boundless  woods  he  loved  to  roam, 

And  the  Great  Spirit  worshipped  there. 

But  one,  one  fellow  throb  with  us  he  felt; 

To  one  divinity  with  us  he  knelt ; 

Freedom,  the  self-same  freedom  we  adore, 

Bade  him  deefnd  his  violated  shore.” 


LARCOM 


WHITTIER 


THOREAU 


EMERSON 


Uiterarp  Associations  of  tfjc  lUerrimack  Cltoer 


I 


“Rich  thy  waves  and  gentle  too, 

As  Rome’s  proud  Tiber  ever  knew; 

And  thy  fair  current’s  placid  swell 
Would  flow  in  classic  song  as  well. 

Yet  on  thy  banks,  so  green  and  sweet, 

Where  wood  nymphs  dance  and  naiads  meet, 
E’en  since  creation’s  earliest  dawn, 

No  son  of  song  was  ever  born; 

No  muse’s  fairy  feet  e’er  trod 
Thy  modest  margin’s  verdant  sod; 

And  ’mid  Time's  silent,  feathery  flight, 

Like  some  coy  maiden,  pure  as  light, 
Sequestered  in  some  blest  retreat, 

Far  from  the  city  and  the  great, 

Thy  virgin  waves  the  vales  among 
Have  flowed  naglected  and  unsung.” 


■^^IVERS  are  the  poets  of  Nature,  singing  the  songs 
of  the  landscape.  The  song  of  the  Merrimack  is 
a grand  epic  of  industry,  the  story  in  rhythm  of 
progress.  From  whence  it  babbles  its  baby  lullabies  in 
its  mountain  cradle  to  where  it  yields  up  its  being  to  the 
ocean,  it  sings  of  constant  changes,  periods  of  unrest  as  it 
struggles  with  its  rocky  environments,  days  of  peace  where 
it  lingers  longingly  in  the  quiet  valleys  of  its  meadows. 
In  its  varying  moods  it  always  speaks  in  unmistakable  lan- 
guage of  a restlessness  and  endeavor  in  keeping  with 
human  life.  Its  fortune  and  good  will  have  been  more 

59 


60 


THE  MERRIMACK  RIVER 


closely  interwoven  with  those  of  man  than  any  other  river 
in  the  world. 

While  the  grand  old  Father  Nile  for  centuries  unscored 
has  listened  with  a patient  ear  to  the  story  of  its  children, 
a tale  of  woe  and  happiness  of  that  far-away  dawn  of  civi- 
lization and  the  ending  of  the  day;  the  sacred  Ganges  has 
often  lingered  lonely  and  lovingly  to  listen  to  the  plaint  of 
its  benighted  people;  the  storied  Rhine  repeated  in  its 
many  tongues  the  proud  boast  of  its  years  and  its  con- 
quests, the  Merrimack  carried  in  its  heart  the  memory  of 
older  and  greater  monuments  than  these.  It  has  in  truth 
traced  its  own  autobiography  with  invisible  pencil  in 
unmistakable  characters  upon  tablets  of  stone  that  will 
outlast  the  printed  pages  of  many  races  of  men. 

The  earliest  literary  association  of  the  Merrimack  is  a 
voice  coming  up  from  the  depths  of  dusky  tradition.  The 
poet  was  a dark-eyed,  plaintive  singer  whose  dreary  refrain 
awoke  the  heart-throbs  of  the  sympathetic  current  of  the 
rolling  river  as  no  other  messenger  has.  The  daughter  of 
some  unwritten  chieftain  she  traced  upon  the  flexible  tab- 
lets of  memory  the  picturesque  story  of  her  race. 

To  him  who  in  the  love  of  Nature  holds 
Communion  with  her  invisible  forms,  she  speaks 
A various  language;  for  his  gayer  hours, 

She  has  a voice  of  gladness  and  a smile 
And  eloquence  of  beauty,  and  she  glides 
Into  his  darker  musings  with  a mild 
And  healing  sympathy,  that  steals  away 
Their  sharpness  ere  he  is  aware. 

From  out  of  the  misty  background  this  pathetic  singer 
created  an  heroic  epic  grander  than  Homer,  whose  stalwart 
figures  belong  to  the  most  picturesque  race  that  ever  lived. 
Among  them  the  stately  Kenewa  appears  mustering  his 
dusky  legion  to  lead  it  forth  to  anticipated  conquest  only  to 
be  swallowed  up  by  the  hungry  wilderness  as  was  Varus 
and  his  army  in  the  old  Germanic  forest.  Then  the  valiant 
Winnemet  rallied  around  him  his  gallant  followers  upon 
the  Brave  Lands  in  his  desperate  endeavor  to  stem  the 
tide  of  that  disastaous  Waterloo  that  overtook  his  race. 


Drawn  tor  Granite  State  Magazine  by  J.  Warren  Thyng. 


THE  COT  IN  THE  VALLEY 


LITERARY  ASSOCIATIONS  OF  MERRIMACK  RIVER  61 


Now  the  magnanimous  Passaconaway,  reading  in  the  signs 
of  the  times  the  destiny  of  his  people,  bade  them  to  meet 
bravely  a hopeless  fate,  while  he  launched  his  frail  boat  upon 

This  swiftly  flowing  river, 

This  silver  gliding  river, 

Whose  springing  willows  shiver 
In  the  sunset  as  of  old, 

and  vanished  from  sight  and  story,  the  grandest  figure 
among  these  Romans  of  the  wilderness.  This  was,  indeed, 
the  Thessaly  of  olden  New  England,  where 

Green-tufted,  oak-shaded,  by  Amoskeag’s  Fall 
The  twin  Uneanoonucs  rose  stately  and  tall. 

If  the  dusky  hosts  that  flitted  across  the  misty  pages 
left  no  Illiad  to  speak  of  their  dead  heroes,  of  their  unwrit- 
ten deeds,  theirs  is  not  all  the  loss;  yours  not  all  the  gain. 

For  them  the  woodland  songster  sang  its  matin  vespers 
and  with  them  it  vanished;  for  them  the  bonny  deer 
roamed  the  pine-clad  hills,  and  with  them  it  sped  its  eter- 
nal race;  the  sleepless  eagle,  that  from  its  eirie  crag 
watched  their  stealthy  march  against  their  foe,  maintains 
no  more  its  lonely  vigil;  the  catamount,  that  alone  dared 
to  answer  their  triumphant  warwhoop,  is  forever  silent. 
The  merry  rivulet  that  tells  its  happy  secrets  to  you  told 
the  same  old  story  to  them  in  a loftier  strain;  the  deep 
forest,  with  its  unnumbered  arms,  protecting  them  from 
the  cold  blasts  of  winter  and  the  torrid  rays  of  summer, 
found  in  the  ring  of  your  ax  its  knell  of  doom;  the  cataract, 
that  awoke  with  its  mighty  drum-beat  the  solitude  of  their 
surroundings,  greet  you  with  rhythm  subdued:  the  myriad 
of  Nature’s  voices  that  stirred  the  impulses  of  their  wild 
nature  have  no  awakening  chord  for  you.  The  song  of  the 
river  you  drown  with  the  dreary  monotone  of  the  factory 
wheel,  and  the  melody  of  the  wildwood  with  the  tumult  of 
your  busy  marts. 

Leaving  this  period  of  aboriginal  romance,  when 

When  the  trees  were  chanting  from  an  open  book, 

we  find  the  river  a source  of  joy  to  all  who  follow  its  his- 
toric and  charmed  courses, 


62 


THE  MERRIMACK  RIVER 


With  its  head  hid  in  the  shadow 
Of  mountains  crowned  with  snow 
With  its  bosom  in  the  meadow 
Where  the  apple  orchards  grow. 

The  first  written  description  was  given  by  the  early 
explorers,  who  were  seeking  in  a land  of  romance,  as  was 
the  aged  De  Leon  seeking  in  the  everglades  of  Florida  for 
the  Fountain  of  Youth,  the  solution  of  many  delusions, 
and  wrote  of  the  Merrimack  as  a “faire  large  river,  well 
replenished  with  many  fruitful  islands;  the  ayr  thereof  is 
pure  and  wholesome;  the  country  pleasant,  having  some 
high  hills,  full  of  goodly  forests  and  faire  vallies  and  plaines 
fruitful  in  corn,  chestnuts,  walnuts  and  infintie  sorts  of 
other  fruits;  large  rivers  well  stored  with  fish,  and  environed 
with  goodly  meadows  full  of  timber  trees.” 

What  lonely  magnificence  stretches  around! 

Each  sight  how  sublime;  how  awful  each  sound! 

All  hushed  and  serene  as  a region  of  dreams, 

The  mountains  repose  ’mid  the  roar  of  the  streams. 

The  historian  of  the  river  is  beyond  dispute  the  pains, 
taking  Meader,  who  has  traced  its  many  features  in  their 
varying  lineaments  from  “the  mountain  to  the  sea.”  In  a 
volume  of  over  three  hundred  pages  he  has  described  its 
charms  and  accomplishment  in  pleasant  language.  He 
says: 

“The  existence  of  the  splendid  system  of  waterfalls, 
such  as  this  alone  of  all  the  streams  in  the  land  can  boast, 
has  cited  around  them  mechanics,  artisans  and  operatives 
of  every  degree  of  skill  and  ability,  and  the  result  is  seen 
in  the  steady  and  successful  operation  of  more  than  one 
hundred  monster  cotton  and  woolen  mills,  whose  massive 
walls  towering  on  the  ‘air  line’  toward  the  clouds,  enclose 
gems  of  humanity  as  well  as  of  intricate,  delicate  and 
almost  intelligent  machinery.  . . . Anterior  to  the  manu- 
facturing epoch  ....  the  Merrimack  river  was  the  same 
lovely  stream  of  bright  and  sparkling  water  and  contained 
the  same  noble  falls,  and  was  surrounded  with  a population 
sturdy  and  indomitable,  which  sparse  and  devoted  to  the 
pleasant  and  profitable  pursuits  of  peace  as  it  was,  yet 


NEAR  TO  NATU 


LITERARY  ASSOCIATIONS  OF  MERRIMACK  RIVER  63 

contributed  its  full  share  to  the  independence,  intellect  and 
character  of  the  nation.  Looking  still  further  back,  to  the 
aboriginal  period,  the  Merrimack  and  the  territory  which 
it  drains  is  replete  with  interest,  different  in  kind  to  be 
sure,  but  equal  and  in  some  respects  surpassing  that  which 
invests  it  now.  . . . Though  races  of  men  may  flourish  for 
a season  and  disappear,  others  more  or  less  worthy  assum- 
ing their  places  in  turn,  the  Merrimack  river  and  its  grand 
surroundings  can  never  be  involved  in  these  vicissitudes. 
The  grand  convocation  of  majestic  mountains  which  sur- 
round its  source  are  the  fitting  emblems  of  eternal  dura- 
tion and  nothing  but  such  terrific  convulsions  of  nature  as 
would  produce  a universal  chaos  could  move  them  from 
their  firm  bases  or  mar  the  unequalled  natural  beauty  of 
their  scenery  ord  estroy  the  wonderful  features  which  give 
them  world-wide  fame.  The  Merrimack  itself,  enduring  as 
the  crystal  hills  which  give  it  birth,  will  go  on  forever, 
leaping  from  the  great  mountains  in  sparkling  cascades, 
meandering  through  long,  shaded  avenues  of  perennial 
forests,  winding  its  tortuous  course  around  the  bases  of 
eternal  hills,  a robust,  rapid  river.  ...  In  another  age  new 
and  improved  monuments  may  be  reared,  still  testifying  to 
its  service  and  its  power,  long  after  the  chains  which  now 
bind  it  to  the  wheels  of  monster  cotton  mills  are  rusted  and 
decayed  and  become  relics  of  the  past,  or  the  antiquarian 
may  rescue  from  the  debris  of  its  present  glory  vestiges  of 
the  history  of  its  former,  but  fallen  grandeur — 

“By  thirty  hills  I hurry  down, 

Or  slip  between  the  ridges, 

By  twenty  thorps,  a little  town, 

And  half  a hundred  bridges.’  ” 

Notwithstanding  the  prophecy  of  the  poet*  whose 
lines  introduce  our  subject,  we  find  that  the  Merrimack  has 
been  the  favorite,  possibly,  of  more  poets  than  any  other 

♦William  M.  Richardson,  LL.D.,  was  born  in  Pelham.  January  4,  1774.  He  graduated 
lrom  Harvard  College  in  1797;  was  a member  of  congress,  1811-14;  chief  justice  of  the 
Supreme  Court  oi  this  state,  1816-38.  He  died  in  Chester  in  March,  1838.  It  will  be  seen 
that  he  lived  before  the  majority  of  those  from  whom  we  quote  had  begun  to  sing. — Editor. 


64 


THE  MERRIMACK  RIVER 


river  in  America.  Associated  with  its  own  are  the  songs 
of  Whittier,  Thoreau  and  Emerson,  and  a score  of  others 
worthy  of  remembrance. 

Mr.  Robert  Caverly*  devoted  an  entire  volume  of 
eighty  pages  to  an  epic  poem  upon  the  river.  While  this 
effort  of  Mr.  Caverly  may  never  become  a classic,  it  has 
many  places  of  interest  bordering  closely  upon  merit. 
His  heart  was  with  his  subject,  which  gladdens  many  a 
defect  and  enlivens  that  subject 

Whose  praise  we  sing, 

....  Some  grateful  measure  bring, 

Some  note  of  landscape  grand  in  dale  and  hill, 

Adorned  with  glittering  lake,  cascade  or  rill, 

With  forest  wild,  with  winding  wave  between 
The  giant  groves  along  the  valley  green. 

In  speaking  of  the  days  of  the  primeval  pioneers,  he 
goes  on  to  say  in  pleasant  vein: 

His  dripping  oar 

Ripples  the  water  never  pressed  before. 

Leading  us  quietly  through  the  vale  of  the  passing 
scenes,  he  declares: 

Thence  this  fair  vale  from  mountain  to  the  main 
In  vernal  grandeur  buds  to  bloom  again, 

And  plenteous  harvest  with  her  golden  ears 
Crowning  the  prudence  of  progressive  years 
Adorns  the  field,  and  grace  triumphant  gives 
To  honest  toil. 

The  poet  quoted  at  the  beginning  continues  his  some- 
what graphic  lines  by  describing  in  vivid  language  the  wild 
tangle  of  savage  warfare,  where  contending  foes — 

This  gentle  flood 

Bedew  with  tears  and  wet  with  blood — 

and  goes  on  to  picture  the  deeds  of  brave  men  none  the 
less  true  to  honor  and  duty  because 


♦Robert  Boody  Caverly  was  born  in  Strafford,  July  19,  1806.  He  graduated  at  the  Har- 
vard Law  School  and  practiced  law  six  years  in  Limerick,  Me.,  and  then  for  many  years  in 
Lowell,  Mass.,  where  he  died  in  1898.  He  left  several  published  works,  all  of  which  relate 
to  the  Merrimack  and  its  associations.  Besides  the  poem  mentioned  he  was  the  author  of  a 
“History  of  the  Indian  Wars  in  New  England,”  “Epics,  Lyrics  and  Ballads*”  “Battles  of  the 
Bush,”  with  other  works. — Editor. 


LITERARY  ASSOCIATIONS  OF  MERRIMACK  RIVER  65 


No  evergreen  of  glory  waves 
Above  the  fallen  warriors’  graves 

****** 

No  deathless  deed  by  hero  done, 

No  battle  lost,  no  victory  won, 

Here  ever  waked  with  praise  or  blame 
The  loud  uplifted  trump  of  fame. 

It  matters  little  if  the  nameless  hero  threads  the  dim 
aisles  of  the  old  forest  a mere  shadow  upon  the  serolls  of 
tradition,  or  if  he  comes  and  goes  like  a Csesar  of  departed 
greatness,  very  real  yet  a vision  still.  Amerind  and  Roman 
alike  now  march  in  twain  across  that  other  field  of  Mars, 
wnere  the  arrow  and  the  sword  have  not  been  taken,  and 
victor  and  vanquished  meet  upon  a common  plane.  After 
all  is  it  not  quite  as  well  to  remain  a living  river,  a fount  of 
eternal  inspiration,  as  a dead  hero? 

Where  bounteous  spring  profusely  showers 
A wilderness  of  sweets  and  flower, — 

The  stately  oak  of  royal  line, 

The  spreading  elm  and  towering  pine, 

Here  cast  a purer,  happier  shade 
Than  blood-stained  laurels  ever  made. 

Another  of  its  admirers*  has  caught  the  spirit  of  its 
answering  voices  and,  while  listening  to  the  wild  songs  of 
“broken  waters,”  makes  this  stirring  apostrophe: 

TO  THE  MERRIMACK  RIVER 

AT  THE  FALL?  OF  THE  AM-AUH-NOUR-SKEAG 

Roll  on,  bright  stream! 

And  ever  thus,  from  earliest  time,  thou’st  leaped 
And  played  amid  these  caverned,  sounding  rocks, 

When  the  long  summer’s  sun  hath  tamed  thy  power 
To  gentleness;  or,  roused  from  thy  long  sleep, 

Hast  cast  thy  wintry  fetters  off,  and  swept, 

In  wild,  tumultuous  rage,  along  thy  course, 

Flinging  the  white  foam  high  from  out  thy  path, 

And  shaking  to  their  very  centre  earth’s 
Foundation  stones. 

*Thomas  Russell  Crosby  was  born  in  Gilmanton,  October  22,  1816.  In  1841  he  gradu- 
ated from  both  the  academical  and  medical  departments  of  Dartmouth  College.  He  was 
professor  in  Norwich  University  from  1854  to  1864;  in  Milwaukee  Medical  College,  from 
1864  to  1871;  in  New  Hampshire  Agricultural  College,  from  1870  to  the  time  of  his  death  in 
Hanover,  March  1,  1892. — Editor  ■ 


66 


THE  MERRIMACK  RIVER 


And  in  thine  awful  might, 
When  terror  rides  thy  wildly  heaving  wave 
Or  in  thy  soft  and  gentle  flow,  when  break 
The  ripples  on  thy  sandy  shore,  in  sweet, 

Delicious  music,  as  of  fairy  bells, 

How  beautiful  art  thou! 

And,  since  that  first 
Glad  hour,  when  morning  stars  together  sang, 

Each  rising  sun,  with  dewy  eye,  hath  looked 
On  thee.  Each  full-orbed  moon  hath  smiled  to  see 
Herself  thrown  back  in  penciled  loveliness, 

Mirrored  a mimic  disk  of  light,  beneath 
Thy  pure  and  limpid  wave,  or  broken  else 
Into  a myriad  crystal  gems  flung  high, 

In  sparkling  jets  or  gilded  spray,  towards  heaven. 

And  long  ere  on  thy  shores  the  white  man  trod, 

And  wove  the  magic  chain  of  human  will 
Around  thy  free  and  graceful  flood,  and  tamed 
Its  power  to  minister  to  human  good, 

The  Indian  roamed  along  thy  wooded  banks, 

And  listened  to  thy  mighty  voice  with  awe. 

He,  too,  untutored  in  the  schoolman’s  lore, 

And  conversant  with  Nature’s  works  alone, 

More  deep,  true,  reverent  worship  paid  to  thee 
Than  does  his  fellow-man,  who  boasts  a faith 
More  pure,  an  aim  more  high,  a nobler  hope — 

Yet  in  his  soul  is  filled  with  earth-born  lusts. 

The  Indian  loved  thee  as  a gift  divine 

To  him  thou  flow’dst  from  the  blest  land  that  smiled 

Behind  the  sunset  hills — the  Indian  heaven, 

Where,  on  bright  plains,  eternal  sunshine  fell, 

And  bathed  in  gold  the  hills,  and  dells,  and  woods, 
Of  the  blest  hunting-grounds.  With  joy  he  drew 
The  finny  stores  from  out  thy  swarming  depths, 

Or  floated  o’er  thee  in  his  light  canoe, 

And  blest  the  kindly  hand  that  gave  him  thee, 

A never-failing  good;  a fount  of  life 
And  blessing  to  his  race.  And  thou  to  him 
Didst  image  forth  the  crystal  stream  that  flows 
From  “out  the  throne  of  God  and  of  the  Lamb,” 
The  Christian’s  “water  of  the  life  divine.” 

Thy  source  was  in  the  spirit-peopled  clouds, 

And  to  his  untaught  fancy  thou  didst  spring 


LITERARY  ASSOCIATIONS  OF  MERRIMACK  RIVER 


Fresh  from  Manitou’s  hands — the  o’erflowing  hand 
From  which  all  blessing  comes,  alike  to  him 
Whose  teaching  comes  from  rude,  material  things, 

Who  worships  ’neath  the  clear  blue  dome  of  heaven, 

As  him  who  in  a sculptured  temple  prays. 

And  thou,  bright  river,  in  thy  ceaseless  flow, 

Hast  mirrored  many  a passing  scene  would  charm 
The  painter’s  eye,  would  fire  the  poet’s  soul; 

For  beauty  of  the  wild,  free  wood  and  floods 
Is  yet  more  beautiful  when  far  removed 
From  the  loud  din  of  toil,  that  e’er  attends 
The  civilizing  march  of  Saxon  blood. 

And  poetry,  unversed  indeed,  and  rude, 

But  full  of  soul-wrought,  thrilling  harmony, 

Hath  spoken  in  thy  murmur  or  thy  roar; 

And  human  hearts,  through  long,  swift-gliding  years, 
Have  made  the  valley  thou  hast  blessed  their  home, 
Where  they  have  lived,  and  loved,  and  joyed,  and  hoped, 
Nay,  passed  through  all  that  makes  the  sum  of  life, 

Of  human  life,  in  every  clime  and  age. 

Along  thy  shaded  banks,  in  grim  array, 

Wild  bands  of  “braves,”  as  fearless  and  as  true 
As  ever  sought  a deadly  foeman’s  blade, 

Or  battled  nobly  in  a country’s  cause, 

With  step  as  silent  as  the  grave,  have  sped, 

In  lengthened  files,  to  strfe,  and  blood,  and  death . 

In  that  sweet  dell,  where  giant  trees  o’erhang 
Thy  soft,  encircling  wave,  the  council  fires 
Have  blazed.  There  silent,  stem,  grave-visaged  men 
Have  sat  the  magic  circle  round,  and  smoked 
The  calumet  of  peace;  or  youths,  in  wild 
Exciting  dance,  with  battle  songs  and  shouts, 

With  flashing  arms,  and  well-feigned,  earnest  strife, 

Have  acted  the  sad  mimicry  of  war. 

To  yonder  sheltered  nook,  where,  still  and  calm, 

The  chafed  and  wearied  waters  rest  a while 
Behind  a rocky  point,  on  which  the  waves 
Break  ever,  with  a music  soft  and  sweet, 

And  ’neath  the  shadows  of  tall,  sighing  pines, 

That,  in  the  fircest  noon,  create  a soft, 

Cool,  cloistered  light  upon  the  sward  beneath, 

The  dusky  brave,  fierce  now  no  more,  stolen 


68 


THE  MERRIMACK  RIVER 


Oft  at  the  twilight  hour,  and  when  the  young 
New  moon  hath  tipped  with  silver  bough,  and  rock, 
And  wave,  to  murmur  into  willing  ears 
Love’s  witching  story,  told  full  oft,  yet  new 
As  when  ’twas  whispered  in  fair  Eden’s  bowers. 

Sweet  Merrimack!  For  ages  thus  the  stream 
Of  human  life  ran  on  with  thine,  yet  not 
As  thine;  for  thou  art  as  thou  wast  of  old, 

When  first  the  Indian  chased  along  thy  banks. 

But  where  is  now  the  red  man,  true  and  brave? 

Alas!  where  once  the  child  of  nature  trod, 
Unquestioned  monarch  of  the  land  and  wave, 

The  many  towered,  busy. city  stands! 

Hills  that  threw  back  the  warwhoop’s  fearful  peal, 
When  filled  was  this  fair  vale  with  sounds  of  strife, 
Now  echo  to  the  engine’s  shriller  scream, 

As  swift  and  strong  it  flies,  with  goodly  freight 
Of  life  and  merchandise! 

By  thy  fair  stream 

The  Indian  roams  no  more.  No  more  he  snares 
The  artful  trout,  or  lordly  salmon  spears; 

No  more  his  swift- winged  arrow  strikes  the  deer. 
Towards  the  setting  sun,  with  faltering  limb 
And  glaring  eye,  he  seeks  a distant  home, 

Where  withering  foot  of  white  man  ne’er  can  come. 

And  thy  wild  water,  Merrimack,  is  tamed, 

And  bound  in  servile  chains  which  mind  has  forged 
To  bind  the  stubborn  earth,  the  free- winged  air, 

The  heaving  ocean,  and  the  rushing  stream, 

Th’  obedient  servants  of  a mightier  will, 

E’en  as  a spirit  caught  in  earth-born  toils, 

As  legends  tell,  and  doomed  to  slave  for  him 
Who  holds  the  strong,  mysterious  bond  of  power. 
And  thou  art  now  the  wild,  free  stream  no  more, 
Playing  all  idly  in  thy  channels  old; 

Thy  days  of  sportive  beauty  and  romance 
Are  gone.  Yet,  harnessed  to  thy  daily  toil, 

And  all  thy  powers  controlled  by  giant  mind, 

And  right  directed,  thou’rt  a spirit  still. 

And  workest  mightily  for  human  good, 

Changing,  in  thine  abundant  alchemy, 

All  baser  things  to  gold. 


FRIENDLY  GREETINGS 


Hiterarp  Stssociations  of  tfjc  /USerrtmatfe  fttber 


ii 


a VOID  would  be  left  in  the  literary  associations  of 
the  Merrimack  was  the  memory  of  that  gifted 
worshiper  of  the  White  Hills,  Starr  King,*  for- 
gotten. To  his  pen  more  than  all  others,  the  kings  of 
northern  mountains, 

“Discoursing  like  sentinels  to  the  sky,” 

owe  their  immortality  in  literature.  “He  discovered  them 


*Thomas  Starr  King  was  born  in  New  York  city  December  24,  1824, 
the  oldest  child  of  Thomas  F.  King,  an  eloquent  minister  in  the  Universa- 
list  church.  The  father,  ^distinguished  in  his  day  by  his  fervid  apostolic 
style  of  preaching,  after  several  years  of  service  in  Hudson  and  New  York, 
was  settled  in  Portsmouth,  N.  H.,  but  died  in  Charleston,  Mass.  Left  at 
the  age  of  twelve,  the  sole  dependence  of  his  widowed  mother,  who  had 
five  children  younger  than  he,  Thomas  Starr  King  was  a self-educated, 
self-placed  man.  He  entered  upon  his  line  of  duty  with  that  joyous  sense 
of  power  which  characterized  his  brilliant  but  brief  career.  In  September, 
1845,  he  preached  his  first  sermon  at  Woburn,  Mass.  Never  strong,  at 
twenty-three  he  was  broken  in  health,  For  twelve  years  as  pastor,  preacher, 
lecturer,  literary  man  and  social  factor,  he  gave  the  best  he  had  to  that 
city,  so  fortunate  in  its  heritage  of  admirable  men.  During  those  years 
he  sought  regularly  the  clear,  bracing  atmosphere  of  the  White  Hills, 
which  he  grew  to  love  so  well,  there  to  retain  with  that  undiscovered 
vitality  known  to  few  of  frail  bodies  his  fleeting  physical  power. 
Finally  he  felt  obliged  to  seek  the  milder  climate  of  California,  where  he 
died  of  diphtheria  March  4,  1864,  in  his  fortieth  year. — Editor. 

69 


70 


THE  MERRIMACK  RIVER 


in  their  pristine  glory;  he  left  them  in  a halo  of  revealed 
light.”  And  these  mountains  are  the  birthplace  of  our 
river.  ’Mid  its  crags  and  cliffs  it  was  born,  and  if  it 
spurned  with  childish  wantonness  its  mother,  it  carried 
with  it  to  the  sea  her  memory,  her  songs  of  freedom.  The 
poet  dreams  this  when  he  declares  in  faultless  measure: 

I feel  the  cool  breath  of  the  North 
Between  me  and  the  sun, 

O’er  deep,  still  lake  and  ridgy  earth, 

I saw  the  cloud  shades  run. 

Before  me,  stretched  for  glistening  miles, 

Lay  mountain-girdled  Squam; 

Like  green-winged  birds  the  leafy  isles 
Upon  its  bosom  swam. 

And,  glimmering  through  the  sun-haze  warm, 

Far  as  the  eye  could  roam, 

Dark  billows  of  an  earthquake  storm, 

Bedecked  with  clouds  like  foam, 

Their  vales  in  misty  shadow  deep, 

Their  rugged  peaks  in  shine, 

I saw  the  mountain  ranges  sweep 
The  horizon’s  northern  line. 

There  towered  Chocorua’s  peak;  and  west, 

Moosilauke’s  woods  were  seen, 

With  many  a nameless  slide-scarred  crest 
And  pine-dark  gorge  between. 

Beyond  them,  like  a sun-rimmed  cloud, 

The  great  Notch  mountains  shone, 

Watched  over  by  the  solemn  browed 
And  awful  face  of  stone. 

Well  did  Stirling  say,  gazing  upon  such  a landscape  as 
borders  the  matchless  Merrimack: 

I looked  upon  a plain  of  green, 

That  some  one  called  the  Land  of  Prose, 

Where  many  living  things  are  seen, 

In  movement  or  repose. 

I looked  upon  a stately  hill 
That  well  was  named  the  Mount  of  Song, 

Where  golden  shadows  wait  at  will 
The  woods  and  streams  among. 


LITERARY  ASSOCIATIONS 


71 


But  most  this  fact  my  wonder  bred, 

Though  known  by  all  the  nobly  wise, 

It  was  the  mountain  streams  that  fed 
The  fair  green  plain’s  amenities. 

Following  the  winding  Pemigewasset,  the  main  branch 
of  the  Merrimack 

Overhung 

By  beechen  shadows,  whitening  down  its  rocks, 

he  says: 

“The  valley  is  broader  than  that  of  the  upper  Saco, 
and  the  hills  do  not  huddle  around  the  road;  the  distances 
are  more  artistic,  and  the  lights  and  shades  have  better 
chance  to  weave  their  more  subtle  witchery  upon  the  dis- 
tant mountains  that  bar  the  vision — upon  the  whaleback  of 
Moosilauke  and  the  crags  and  spires  that  face  each  other 
in  the  Franconia  Notch.  The  picture  of  the  Pemigewaset 
is  one  of  prominent  pleasure.  . . . How  briskly  it  cuts  its 
way  in  sweeping  curves  through  the  luxuriant  fields  of 
Campton,  and  with  what  pride  it  is  watched  for  miles  of 
its  wanderings  by  the  Welch  mountain  completely  filling 
the  background,  from  which  its  tide  seems  to  be  pouring, 
and  upon  whose  shoulders,  perhaps,  the  clouds  are  busily 
dropping  fantastic  shawls  of  shadows!  In  this  part  of  its 
course,  the  river  is  scarcely  less  free  than  it  was  in  the 
days  which  Whittier'-alludes  to  in  his  noble  apostrophe  to 
the  Merrimack: 

Oh,  child  of  that  white-crested  mountain  whose  springs 
Gush  forth  in  the  shade  af  the  cliff  eagle’s  wings, 

Down  whose  slopes  to  the  lowlands  thy  wild  waters  shine, 

Leaping  gray  walls  of  rock,  flashing  through  the  dwarf  pine. 

From  that  cloud-curtained  cradle  so  cold  and  so  lone, 

From  the  arms  of  that  wintry-locked  mother  of  stone; 

By  hills  hung  with  forests,  through  vales  wide  and  free, 

Thy  mountain-born  brightness  glanced  down  to  the  sea. 

No  bridge  arched  thy  waters  save  that  where  the  trees 
Stretched  their  long  arms  above  thee,  and  kissed  in  the  breeze : 

No  sound  save  the  lapse  of  the  waves  on  thy  shores, 

The  plunging  of  otters,  the  light  dip  of  oars. 


72 


THE  MERRIMACK  RIVER 


Mr.  Nathaniel  Berry,  in  his  “Last  of  the  Penacooks,” 
gives  us  some  pleasant  insights  into  the  story  of  man  and 
river,  and  added  his  share  to  the  literature  of  the  valley 
and  its  people.  A native  of  Pittsfield,  the  author  knew 
whereof  he  spoke  in  describing  scenery,  while  his  imagina- 
tion flew  a felicitous  arrow  in  its  flights.  The  book  has 
become  far  too  scarce,  and  I have  yet  to  see  a third  copy, 
though  it  was  published  in  recent  years  and  by  a house 
that  only  a short  time  since  ceased  to  publish. 

Two  authors  of  local  repute,  Messrs.  Samuel  D.  Lord 
and  William  E.  Moore,  added  their  part  to  the  scientific 
knowledge  of  the  river’s  natural  features,  not  to  mention 
the  researches  of  Professor  Hitchcock. 

Mr.  Francis  B.  Eaton,  in  his  “Story  of  Lake  Massa- 
besic,”  gives  us  happy  insights  into  the  beautiful  biography 
of  that  charming  sheet  of  water  known  to  the  dusky 
seekers  after  eternal  light  as  “The  Eyes  of  the  Sky.” 
This  historian  waxes  eloquent  over  his  subject  in  a descrip- 
tion which  happily  associates  the  past  with  the  present. 
“Connecting  the  white-sanded  beaches  shores  extend,  piled 
high  with  boulders  indicative  of  oldtime  storms  and  winds, 
echoes  of  which  to  this  day  greet  the  luckless  voyager  who 
happens  to  be  out  in  his  frail  canoe  or  cranky  sailboat. 
Wooded  slopes  run  down  to  the  water’s  edge,  luxuriant 
vines  cluster  on  fine  old  trees,  the  wild  grape  perfumes  the 
autumn  groves.  Only  the  other  day  the  bear  found  his 
favorite  high  blueberry  in  sheltered  dells;  wild  geese  rested 
here  in  their  long  flights  hither  and  yon,  and  great  flocks 
of  ducks  found  free  ports  of  entry  in  many  a safe  retreat. 
Deer  browsed  in  the  surrounding  forests;  the  lordly  loon 
trumpeted  his  defiance  in  the  lee  of  his  chosen  island,  or 
disappeared  with  lightning  celerity  at  the  crack  of  the  rifle. 
Acres  of  flooded  marshlands  furnished  feeding  ground  for 
perch  or  pickerel.  Alewives  crowded  in  shoals  up  the 
Cohas  in  the  season,  and  suckers  abounded  when  the  win- 
ter snows  moved  off.” 

Mrs.  Harriet  Prescott  Spofford,  who  was  pleased  to 


LITERARY  ASSOCIATIONS 


73 


lay  the  scenes  of  one  of  her  most  famous  stories  upon  its 
shores,  says:  “Among  the  lakes  of  New  Hampshire  there 
is  one  of  extreme  beauty.  A broad,  shadowy  water  some 
nine  miles  in  length,  with  steep,  thickly  wooded  shores, 
and  here  and  there,  as  if  moored  on  its  calm  surface,  an 
island,  fit  for  a bower  of  bliss.” 

The  poetess,  Mrs.  Clara  B.  Heath,  who  lived  near  its 
beautiful  shore  for  several  years,  has  given  us  some  of  her 
gems  of  verse  in  connection  with  these  twin  bodies  of 
water: 

Two  broad  blue  bays  that  stretch  out  east  and  west, 

Dotted  with  fairy  isles  of  living  green, 

And  midway  where  the  waters  seem  to  rest 
In  narrow  bed,  two  curving  shores  between, 

A time-worn  bridge  that  long  has  stood  the  test 
Of  stormy  winds  and  restless  tides  is  seen. 

The  outlet  of  this  lake,  Cohas  brook,  is  one  of  the 
most  fortunate  tributaries  of  the  Merrimack. 

No  sweeter  tribute  to  the  noble  river  of  which  we 
write  has  been  paid  it  than  the  poem  of  Mr.  Allen  East- 
man Cross,  “At  the  Falls  of  Namoskeag.”* 

Three  souls  shall  meet  in  our  gracious  river, 

The  soul  of  the  mountains,  staunch  and  free 
The  soul  of  the  Indians’  “Lake  of  the  Spirit,” 

And  the  infinite  soul  of  the  shining  sea. 

Mr.  Nathan  Hale,  who  thought  best  to  sign  himself 
“A  Gentleman  from  Boston,”  has  left  us  a felicitous 
account  of  an  “Excursion  to  Winnipiseogee.”  Its  title 
page  bears  the  date  of  1833,  and  as  an  example  of  quiet 
humor  and  purity  of  expression  it  is  difficult  to  find  its 
equal  in  this  day  of  Kipling  and  Londonarian  literature 
(save  the  mark!).  After  describing  the  beginning  of  his 
journey,  Mr.  Hale  goes  on  to  say: 

“Noon  brought  us  to  Haverhill,  on  the  north  bank  of 
the  Merrimack,  a town  no  less  beautiful  from  its  natural 


♦This  poem  was  given  entire,  printed  upon  one  of  our  linen  inserts- 
pages  97-104,  Volume  I. — Editor . 


74 


THE  MERRIMACK  RIVER 


situation  than  from  the  aspect  of  its  buildings.  Its  antiqui- 
ties and  history  afford  some  tragical,  and  many  romantic, 
incidents  for  the  embellishment  of  future  novels  and  the 
catastrophies  of  future  dramatic  compositions.  The  sack 
of  the  town  by  the  Indians  and  French  in  1708,  the  heroic 
conduct  of  Mrs.  Dustin,  the  sagacity  and  address  of  Hagar 
the  slave,  in  secreting  the  two  infants,  and  many  other 
events  which  are  yet  fresh  in  tradition,  narrated  with  truth 
and  embellished  with  the  colors  of  an  imagination  that 
could  remigrate  a century  and  a half,  would  be  as  interest- 
ing as  it  would  be  novel. 

I dislike  historical  romances  even  from  the  pen  of 
Florian,  because  they  confound  history.  But  those  whose 
bodies  are  real,  and  where  dress  only  is  fanciful,  like  the 
historical  plays  of  Shakespeare,  personify  the  age,  assist 
our  conceptions  of  character  and  actions,  and  bring  the 
very  fashions  and  pressure  of  the  times  home  to  our 
bosoms. 

After  dining  at  the  hotel,  we  stopped  the  stage  on  the 
Exeter  road  to  receive  Mr.  W.,  who  was  to  conduct  us  to 
the  White  Hills  but,  not  being  ready,  he  promised  to  join 
us  to-morrow. 

While  the  horses  stopped  to  bait,  after  we  left  , 

curiosity  prompted  me  to  look  at  the  unwashed  cheeks  of 
Mrs. . Thirty-seven  years  had  elapsed  since  a beauti- 
ful girl  of  fifteen  sat  on  the  knee  of  Washington  at  . 

A kiss  of  Washington  could  not  leave  a spot  on  the  charriest 
maiden’s  cheek,  and  if  it  had  it  would  always  be  considered 
a beauty  spot  which  no  fair  one  would  erase.  As  Wash- 
ington passed  to  New  Hampshire,  he  was  conducted 
through  this  route,  to  be  present  at  the  wedding  of  his  sec- 
retary, Mr.  Lear. 

People  of  each  sex  and  all  ages  flocked  from  every 
part  of  the  country  to  see  him.  Two  beautiful  girls  went 
on  the  day  previous  to  their  relative’s,  where  he  was  to 
lodge,  in  order  to  see  the  reputed  Father  of  his  Country. 
After  the  evening  levee  was  ended,  they  were  introduced, 


LITERARY  ASSOCIATIONS 


75 


with  reference,  by  them  jolly  relation,  to  the  visit  of  the 
queen  of  a far  distant,  country  to  see  the  glory  of  Israel. 
Their  modest,  gentle  and  affectionate  carriage  exceedingly 
gratified  the  General  and  engaged  his  attention.  Nothing 
tends  more  to  social  intercourse  than  the  performance  of 
some  little  favor.  One  of  Washington’s  gloves  had  a rip — 
one  of  the  girls,  without  speaking,  took  it  up,  repaired  it 
and  silently  put  it  on  the  sofa.  Washington  observed  the 
act  and,  instead  of  complimenting,  took  her  hand  and  drew 
her  towards  him  and  impressed  a kiss  on  her  cheek.  All 
this  was  a movement  of  the  heart  on  the  part  of  both. 
She  declared  she  would  never  wash  that  spot;  and  I could 
not  help  thinking,  as  I looked  upon  her,  that  the  rosy  blush 
had  not  been  impaired  by  time,  and  that  like  the  immortal 
amaranth  it  retained  its  freshness  and  beauty,  fed  by  the 
“sweet  contentment  of  her  thoughts.” 

The  brightest  links  in  the  literature  of  the  Merrimack 
are  formed  by  that  gifted  trio,  Thoreau,  Emerson,  Whit- 
tier, and  it  were  sufficient  that  a river  should  have  these. 

Among  the  prose  writers  Thoreau*  has  left  us  the 
most  imperishable  monument  in  his  “Week  upon  the  Con- 
cord and  Merrimack  River.”  To  us  it  seems  enough  that 
he  should  have  written  this,  in  some  respects  his  master- 
piece. Following  his  happy  introduction  he  goes  on  to  say: 
“We  were  thus'entering  the  state  of  New  Hampshire 
on  the  bosom  of  the  flood  formed  by  the  tribute  of  its 
innumerable  valleys.  The  river  was  the  only  key  which 

♦Henry  David  Thoreau  was  born  in  Concord,  Mass.,  July  12,  1817, 
aud  died  where  he  had  lived  the  last  few  years  of  his  life,  in  the  old- 
fashioned  dwelling  known  as  the  Thoreau-Alcott  house,  May  6,  1862. 
Filled  with  an  extraordinary  love  for  nature  he  devoted  his  life  to  its 
study.  Believing  in  prudent  and  economical  living,  he  sought  to  prove 
his  theory,  and  built  a hut  upon  the  shore  of  Walden  pond,  where  he 
lived  for  two  years  and  about  which  he  wove  the  threads  of  his  most 
famous  book,  “ Walden,  or  Life  in  the  Woods.”  The  primitive  dwelling 
has  gone  the  way  of  its  builder,  but  its  site  is  marked  with  a cairn  of 
stones,  growing  like  his  reputation  as  the  years  go  by  with  stone  upon 
stone  added  by  admiring  visitors  to  the  hallowed  spot. — Editor. 


76 


THE  MERRIMACK  RIVER 


could  unlock  its  maze,  presenting  its  hills  and  valleys,  its 
lakes  and  streams,  in  their  natural  order  and  position.  The 
Merrimack,  or  Sturgeon,  river,  is  formed  by  the  confluence 
of  the  Pemigewasset,  which  rises  near  the  Notch  of  the 
White  Mountains,  and  the  Winnepisiogee,  which  drains 
the  lake  of  the  same  name,  signifying  “The  Smile  of  the 
Great  Spirit.”  From  their  junction  it  runs  south  seventy- 
eight  miles  to  Massachusetts,  and  thence  east  thirty-five 
miles  to  the  sea.  I have  traced  its  stream  from  where  it 
bubbles  out  of  the  rocks  of  the  White  Mountains  above 
the  clouds,  to  where  it  is  lost  amid  the  salt  billows  of  the 
ocean  on  Plum  Island  Beach.  At  first  it  comes  on  mur- 
muring to  itself  by  the  base  of  stately  and  retired  moun- 
tains, through  moist  primitive  woods  whose  juices  it 
receives,  where  the  bear  still  drinks  it,  and  the  cabins  of 
settlers  are  far  between,  and  there  are  few  to  cross  its 
stream;  enjoying  in  solitude  its  cascades  still  unknown  to 
fame;  by  long  ranges  of  mountains  of  Sandwich  and  of 
Squam,  slumbering  like  tumuli  of  Titans,  with  the  peaks 
of  Moosehillock,  the  Haystack  and  Kearsarge  reflected  in 
its  waters;  where  the  maple  and  the  raspberry,  those  lovers 
of  the  hills,  flourish  amid  temperate  dews; — flowing  long 
and  full  of  meaning,  but  untranslatable  as  its  name  Pemige- 
wasset, by  many  a pastured  Pelion  and  Ossa,  where 
unnamed  muses  haunt,  tended  by  Oreads,  Dryads,  Naiads, 
and  receiving  the  tribute  of  many  an  untasted  Hippocrene. 
There  are  earth,  air,  fire,  and  water, — very  well,  this  is 
water,  and  down  it  comes. 

Such  water  do  the  gods  distil, 

And  pour  down  every  hill 

For  their  New  England  men; 

A draught  of  this  wild  nectar  bring. 

And  I’ll  not  taste  the  spring 
Of  Helicon  again. 


HENRY  D.  THOREAU 


Hiterarp  associations  of  tfjc  Merrimack  SECitocr 


ill 


C1 


'HOREAU’S  vivid  description  continues  in  the 
same  strain,  in  making  his  passage  of  the  danger- 
ous section  of  the  river: 

Falling  all  the  way,  and  yet  not  discouraged  by  the 
lowest  fall.  By  the  law  of  its  birth  never  to  become  stag- 
nant, for  it  has  come  out  of  the  clouds,  and  down  the  sides 
of  precipices  worn  in  the  flood,  through  beaver  dams 
broke  loose,  not  splitting  but  splicing  and  mending  itself, 
until  it  found  a breathing  place  in  this  low  land.  There  is 
no  danger  now  that  the  sun  will  steal  it  back  to  heaven 
again  before  it  reaches  the  sea,  for  it  has  a warrant  even  to 
recover  its  own  dews"  into  its  bosom  again  with  interest  at 
every  eye. 

“A  Week  on  the  Concord  and  Merrimack  Rivers/’ 
Thoreau’s  first  book,  was  not  a financial  success.  I think 
the  entire  edition  was  not  far  from  a thousand  copies,  of 
which  over  nine  hundred  remained  unsold  for  a long  time. 
He  used  to  remark  that  his  library  consisted  of  about  a 
thousand  volumes,  of  which  he  wrcte  nine  hundred.  The 
failure  of  this  work  caused  him  not  a little  pecuniary 
embarrassment,  and  compelled  him  to  give  up  thoughts  of 
writing  for  a time  and  return  to  his  surveying,  at  which  he 
was  skillful.  Is  it  the  irony  of  fate  that  to-day  these 
same  volumes  sell  for  twenty  dollars  each? 

77 


78 


THE  MERRIMACK  RIVER 


He  was  not  inclined  to  associate  in  mixed  company  to 
any  extent,  remarking  at  one  time,  “I  had  rather  sit 
on  a pumpkin  and  have  it  all  to  myself  than  to  be  crowded 
on  a velvet  chair.”  Yet  he  was  a brilliant  conversationalist 
when  the  company  was  congenial  and  he  was  in  the  mood. 
With  one  of  his  abstemious  manner  of  living  and  careful 
husbanding  of  his  physical  resources,  it  seems  incongruous 
that  both  he  and  his  beautiful  wife  should  die  in  the  prime  of 
life  of  that  dread  scourge  of  New  England.  The  splendid 
courage  of  neither  failed  until  the  dread  summons  came. 

Say  not  that  Caesar  was  victorious. 

With  toil  and  strife  he  stormed  the  house  of  Fame. 

In  other  sense  this  youth  was  glorious, 

Himself  a kingdom  wheresoe’er  he  came. 

Nor  is  it  sufficient  that  we  should  mention  Thoreau 
and  Emerson*  in  the  associations  of  the  Merrimack  and  its 
literature.  Others  of  the  Concord  immortal  galaxy  of  liter- 
ary stars  helped  to  link  its  name  with  theirs  and  immortality. 

Again  the  author  catches  the  latent  spirit  of  the  joy 
of  his  surroundings  and  exclaims: 

“Traveling  on  foot  very  early  one  morning  due  east 
from  here  about  twenty  miles,  from  Caleb  Harriman’s 
tavern  in  Hampstead  toward  Haverhill,  when  I reached  the 
railroad  in  Plaistow,  I heard  at  some  distance  a faint  music 
in  the  air  like  an  ^Eolian  harp,  which  I immediately  sus- 


*Ralph  Waldo  Emerson  was  born  in  Boston,  May  25,  1803,  and  died 
April  27,  1882,  his  place  of  repose  in  Sleepy  Hollow  marked  by  a huge 
granite  boulder.  He  became  a resident  of  Concord,  which  seemed  the 
natural  center  for  the  circle  to  which  he  belonged,  in  1835.  The  “Old 
Manse”  was  his  abode  when  he  wrote  his  first  book,  “Nature,”  and  it  was 
made  yet  more  famous  when  Nathaniel  Hawthorne  and  his  young  bride 
became  its  tenants  from  1843  t0  1846.  “Mosses  from  an  Old  Manse,”  by 
the  first  named,  was  written  here,  in  a room  on  the  second  floor.  The 
noble  mansion  in  Concord,  which  became  Emerson’s  earlier  home,  has  rung 
with  the  voices  of  Concord’s  famous  group,  conspicuous  among  which 
were  Thoreau,  the  Alcotts,  Margaret  Fuller,  Hawthorne,  and  others. 
— Editor. 


JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER 


LITERARY  ASSOCIATIONS 


79 


pected  to  proceed  from  the  cord  of  the  telegraph  vibrating 
in  the  just  awakening  morning  wind,  and  applying  my  ear 
to  one  of  the  posts  I was  convinced  that  it  was  so.  It  was 
the  telegraph  harp  singing  its  message  through  the  coun- 
try, its  message  sent  not  by  men  but  by  gods.  Perchance, 
like  the  statute  of  Memnon,  it  resounds  only  in  the  morn- 
ing when  the  first  rays  of  the  sun  fall  on  it.  It  was  like 
the  first  lyre  or  shell  heard  on  the  seashore, — that  vibrating 
cord  high  in  the  air  over  the  shores  of  earth.  So  have  all 
things  their  higher  and  their  lower  uses.  I heard  a fairer 
news  than  the  journals  ever  print.  It  told  of  things 
worthy  to  hear,  and  worthy  of  the  electric  fluid  to  carry  the 
news  of,  not  of  the  price  of  cotton  and  flour,  but  it  hinted 
at  the  price  of  the  world  itself  and  of  things  which  are 
priceless,  of  absolute  truth  and  beauty. 

“Still  the  drum  rolled  on  and  stirred  our  blood  to  fresh 
extravagance  that  night.  The  clarion  sound  and  clang  of 
corselet  and  buckler  were  heard  from  many  a hamlet  of  the 
soul,  and  many  a knight  was  arming  for  the  fight  behind 
the  encamped  stars. 

Away!  away!  away!  away! 

Ye  have  not  kept  your  secret  well, 

I will  abide  that  other  day, 

Those  other  lands  ye  tell. 

Has  time  no  leisure  left  for  these, 

The  acts  that  ye  rehearse? 

Is  not  eternity  a lease 

For  better  deeds  than  verse? 

No  mention  of  the  literary  associations  of  the  Merri- 
mack would  be  complete  without  including  Whittier.  In 
fact,  we  have  already,  half  unconsciously,  quoted  liberally 
from  him.  While  New  Hampshire  may  not  claim  this 
gifted  poet  as  a son,  she  is  fortunate  in  having  his  name 
closely  connected  with  her  rivers,  lakes  and  mountains. 
It  was  equally  fortunate,  too,  that  he  knew  these  attrac- 
tions of  nature  at  their  best,  ere  they  had  been  robbed  of 
the  poetry  of  a primeval  past  by  the  prose  of  the  present 
day,  forever  pounding  with  its  hammer  of  toil. 


80 


THE  MERRIMACK  RIVER 


He  knew  the  Merrimack  as  “the  stream  of  my  fathers,” 
and  glorified  it  as, 

“Type  of  the  Northland’s  strength  and  glory, 

Pride  and  hope  of  our  home  and  race, — 

Freedom  lending  to  rugged  labor 
Tints  of  beauty  and  lines  of  grace.” 

Among  the  more  ambitious  offerings  made  to  the  liter- 
ature, none  takes  higher  rank  than  Whittier’s  “Bridal  of 
Pennacook,”  written  in  1848.  This  is  an  Indian  legend  of 
great  beauty,  though  marred  in  places  by  his  abominable 
nomenclature,  and  the  date  ascribed  to  the  story  is  at  least 
fifty  years  too  recent.  In  1662  we  have  reason  to  believe 
that  Passaconnaway  was  at  Pawtucket,  now  Lowell.  But 
leaving  these  matters,  which  must  be  considered  trifles 
with  a poet,  the  poem  opens  with  a fantastic  description  of 
a bewildering  transposition  from  where 

“The  moon 

Rising  behind  Umbagog’s  eastern  pines, 

Like  a great  Indian  camp  fire;  and  its  beams 
Spanning  at  midnight  with  a bridge  of  silver 
The  Merrimack  by  Uncanoonuc’s  falls.” 

We  are  given  a glimpse  of  the  storied  era  of  the 
dusky  days, 

That  dim,  strange  land  of  Eld,  now  dying  fast; 

And  that  which  history  gives  not  to  the  eye, 

The  faded  coloring  of  Time’s  tapestry, 

Let  Fancy  with  her  dream-dipped  brush  supply. 

One  of  the  gifts  of  a mighty  chieftain  of  the  red 
brotherhood  was  the  gift  of  sorcery,  which  the  sachem  of 
the  Pennacooks  possessed  to  a marked  degree,  and  the 
poet  proceeds  to  describe,  until  we  learn  that  the  others 
were  so  deeply  affected  by  his  magic 


BIRTHPLACE 


LITERARY  ASSOCIATIONS 


81 


Nightly  down  the  river  going, 

Swifter  was  the  hunter’s  rowing, 

When  he  saw  that  lodge  fire  glowing 
O’er  the  waters  still  and  red; 

And  the  squaw’s  dark  eye  burned  brighter, 

And  she  drew  her  blanket  tighter, 

As,  with  quick  step  and  lighter, 

From  that  door  she  fled. 

V 

The  proud  old  chieftain,  somehow  we  like  that  title 
better  than  bashaba  or  sagamore  or  sachem,  which  indi- 
cated a somewhat  lower  dignity  than  Passaconnaway  held 
— let  us  begin  over  again.  Passaconnaway,  according  to 
the  poet,  was  a widower,  but  this  loss  was  made  good  by 
having  a very  beautiful  daughter. 

A lone,  stem  man.  Yet,  as  sometimes 
The  tempest  smitten  tree  receives 
From  one  small  root  the  sap  which  climbs 
Its  topmost  spray  and  crowning  leaves, 

So  from  his  child  the  sachem  drew 
A life  of  love  and  hope,  and  felt 
His  cold,  rugged  nature  through 

The  softness  and  the  warmth  of  her  young  being  melt. 

We  suppose  there  were  really  beautiful  Indian  maids. 
This  dusky  heroine,  very  properly  for  a story,  became  the 
object  of  the  affections  of  a chief  of  one  of  the  tribes  living 
lower  down  the  river,  He  seemed  to  find  the  maid  an  easy 
victim  to  his  wooing,  for  soon  comes  the  wedding 


When  along  the  river  great  wood  fires 
Shot  into  the  night  their  long  red  spires, 
Showing  behind  the  tall,  dark  wood, 
Flashing  before  on  the  sweeping  flood. 


82 


THE  MERRIMACK  RIVER 


The  trapper  that  night  on  Turee’s  brook, 

And  the  weary  fisher  on  Contoocook, 

Saw  over  the  marshes  and  through  the  pine, 

And  down  on  the  river  the  dance-lights  shine. 

The  wedding  must  have  been  a grand  affair,  and  the 
feast  that  followed  worthy  of  so  proud  an  occasion.  Fish 
and  game  were  brought  by  cunning  hands  from  the  four 
sections  of  the  questland  of  the  dusky  hunter 

And  drawn  from  the  great  stone  vase  which  stands 
In  the  river  scooped  by  a spirit’s  hands, 

Garnished  with  spoons  of  shell  and  horn, 

Stood  the  birchen  dishes  of  smoking  corn. 

This  happy  event  passing  without  a shadow  to  mar  its 
beauty  and  solemnity,  the  bride  goes  to  her  new  home, 
which  is  described  with  minute  fidelity.  She  seems  to 
have  been  happy  in  an  Indian  way,  until  her  father  sent  a 
messenger  declaring  that  he  would  be  pleased  to  have  a 
visit  from  her;  that  he  pined  for  her  in  his  loneliness,  and 
hoped  she  had  not  forgotten  him.  Like  a dutiful  daughter 
she  started  for  her  paternal  home,  following  the  road  of 
the  wilderness, 

Till  rolling  down  its  wooded  banks  between, 

A broad,  clear  mountain  stream,  the  Merrimack  was  seen. 


The  visit  was  a happy  one,  but  when  it  came  time  for 
her  to  return  to  her  liege  lord  by  the  marshes  of  the  lower 
river,  her  stern  parent  failed  to  offer  such  an  escort  as  the 
young  husband  felt  was  due  her.  This  created  a family 
breach  at  once,  and  stern  old  Passaconnaway  swore  by  such 
gods  as  he  knew  that  she  should  never  return  to  his  upstart 
of  a son-in-law.  The  latter  would  not  relent  and  so  the 
poor  wife  was  left  to  grieve  over  her  unhapppy  fate.  The 
summer  fled 


And  on  Autumn’s  gray  and  mournful  grave  the  snow 
Hung  its  white  wreaths;  with  stifled  voice  and  low 


LITERARY  ASSOCIATIONS 


83 


The  river  crept,  by  one  vast  bridge  o’ercrossed, 

Built  by  the  hoar-locked  artisan  of  Frost. 

Unable  to  bear  the  separation  longer,  with  the  break- 
ing up  of  the  river  the  following  spring,  the  young  wife  set 
out  alone  upon  her  return  in  a frail  boat  down  the  river 
which  bore  on  its  angry  bosom  the  ice-ruin  of  winter. 

Down  the  vexed  center  of  that  rushing  tide, 

The  thick  huge  ice-blocks  threatening  either  side, 

The  foam-white  rocks  of  Amoskeag  in  view, 

With  arrowy  swiftness  sped  that  light  canoe. 

No  more  than  the  failing  arm  of  the  faithful  wife  was 
the  slight  craft  equal  to  the  task  imposed  upon  it,  and  ere 
the  rapids  were  passed 

Empty  and  broken  circled  the  canoe 

In  the  vexed  pool  below — but,  where  was  Weetamo? 

In  close  association  with  Whittier  was  the  work  of  his 
protege,  Lucy  Larcom,*  the  sweet  authoress  of  the  mills 
of  Lowell,  while  Mrs.  Rebecca  I.  Davis  of  Haverhill, 
Mass.,  left  his  admirers  a beautiful  token  of  her  esteem  in 
two  modest  volumes  called  “Gleanings  of  the  Merrimack 
Valley.” 

We  cannot  better  close  this  rather  hasty  sketch  than 
by  quoting  from  Mr.  George  S.  Dorr’sf  beautiful  poem, 
“The  Minstrel’s  Summer  Home,”  and  inscribed  to  the 
Merrimack’s  immortal  bard: 


*Lucy  Larcom  was  born  in  Beverly,  Mass.,  in  1826,  and  died  in  Bos- 
ton in  1893.  She  worked  in  the  Lowell  and  Lawrence  mills,  thus  acquir- 
ing by  personal  experience  many  of  the  descriptions  of  real  life  she 
penned  so  sweetly.  While  an  operative  at  the  Lowell  looms  she  edited 
the  journal  by  mill  girls  since  floated  as  the  “The  Lowell  Offering.”  Whit- 
tier was  her  staunch  friend,  and  her  best-known  public  works,  outside  of 
her  work  as  editor  of  Our  Young  Folks , include  “An  Idyl  of  Work,”  “As 
It  Is  in  Heaven,”  “The  Unseen  Friend,”  and  “Poems.” 

tA  native  of  Wakefield  and  founder  of  the  Carroll  County  Pioneer , 
which  he  has  published  for  several  years. — Editor. 


84 


THE  MERRIMACK  RIVER 


Sweet  singer  of  our  northern  hills, 

Our  valleys  and  our  streams, 

You  throw  around  us,  by  your  words, 

The  happiness  of  dreams; 

And  each  New  England  heart  shall  call 
For  thee  a blessing  down, 

Aad  weave  a spray  of  amaranth, 

Within  thy  laurel  crown. 

You  love  the  scent  of  birch  and  pine, 

We  read  it  in  your  song; 

You  love  the  Bearcamp’s  winding  stream, 
That  gently  flow’s  along; 

You  love  the  hills  of  Ossipee, 

You  love  the  elm-tree’s  shade, 

And  love  to  worship  at  the  shrine 
Which  nature  there  hath  made. 

And  in  your  pleasant  home,  beside 
The  smiling  Merrimack, 

You  hear  the  call  they  send  to  you. 

And  gladly  answer  back; 

In  many  seasons  past  and  gone, 

Thy  feet  have  wandered  there, 

And  through  the  heart  there  ran  a joy, 
’Mid  verdure  soft  and  fair. 


Drawn  by  Howard  Pyle 

THE  CAPTAIN’S  WELL 

“He  would  drink  and  rest,  and  go  home  to  tell 
That  God’s  best  gift  is  the  wayside  well ! ” 


Qtty  fountain  /^atD 

By  Edna  Dean  Proctor 


Among  the  poets  of  the  Granite  State,  not  one  has  caught  with  a 
deeper  insight  the  glory  of  her  hills  and  valleys,  her  lakes  and  rivers, 
than  Miss  Proctor,  and  among  her  gems  of  art  and  nature  the  follow- 
ing takes  high  rank.  This  gifted  singer  is  a native  of  Henniker,  but 
has  lived  much  of  her  life  in  Brooklyn,  N.  Y.  She  has  traveled  in 
foreign  countries  extensively,  but  this  has  not  taken  from  her  that 
love  for  native  land  which  abounds  in  the  heart  of  every  true  poet. — 
Editor. 


O the  Mountain  Maid,  New  Hampshire! 

Her  steps  are  light  and  free, 

Whether  she  treads  the  lofty  heights 
Or  follows  the  brooks  to  the  sea! 

Her  eyes  are  clear  as  the  skies  that  hang 
Over  her  hills  of  snow, 

And  her  hair  is  dark  as  the  densest  shade 
That  falls  where  the  fir-trees  grow— 

The  fir-trees,  slender  and  somber, 

That  climb  from  the  vales  below. 

Sweet  is  her  voice  as  the  robin’s, 

In  a lull  of  the  wind  of  March, 

Wooing  the  shy  arbutus 
At  the  roots  of  the  buddng  larch; 

And  rich  as  the  ravishing  echoes 
On  still  Franconia’s  Lake, 

When  the  boatman  winds  his  magic  horn, 
And  the  tongues  of  the  wood  awake, 
WLile  the  huge  Stone  Face  forgets  to  frown 
And  the  hare  peeps  out  of  the  brake. 

The  blasts  of  dreary  December 
But  brighten  the  bloom  on  her  cheek, 

And  the  snows  rear  her  statelier  temples 
Than  to  goddess  were  built  by  the  Greek. 
She  welcomes  the  fervid  summer, 

And  flies  to  the  sounding  shore 
Where  bleak  Boar's  Head  looks  seaward, 

Set  in  the  billows’  roar. 

And  dreams  of  her  sailors  and  fishers 
Till  cool  days  come  once  more. 


. - ' ’ 

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THE  MOUNTAIN  MAID 


Then  how  fair  is  the  Maiden, 

Crowned  with  the  scarlet  leaves, 

And  wrapped  in  the  tender,  misty  veil 
That  Indian  Summer  weaves! 

While  the  aster  blue,  and  the  golden-rod, 
And  immortelles,  clustering  sweet, 
From  Canada  down  to  the  sea  have  spread 
A carpet  for  her  feet; 

And  the  faint  witch-hazel  buds  unfold, 

Her  latest  smile  to  greet. 

She  loves  the  song  of  the  reapers, 

The  ring  of  the  woodman’s  steel, 

The  whirr  of  the  glancing  shuttle, 

The  rush  of  the  tireless  wheel. 

But,  if  war  befalls,  her  sons  she  calls 
From  mill  and  forge  and  lea, 

And  bids  them  uphold  her  banner 
Till  the  land  from  strife  is  free; 

And  she  hews  her  oaks  into  vengeful  ships 
That  sweep  the  foe  from  the  sea. 

0 the  Mountain  Maid,  New  Hampshire! 

For  beauty  and  wit  and  will 
I’ll  mate  her  to-day  with  the  fairest 
That  rules  over  plain  and  hill! 

New  York  is  a princess  in  purple, 

By  the  gems  of  her  cities  crowned; 
Illinois  with  the  garland  of  Ceres 
Her  tresses  of  gold  has  bound— 

Queen  of  the  limitless  prairies, 

Whose  great  sheaves  heap  the  ground; 

And  out  by  the  far  Pacific, 

Their  gay  young  sisters  say, 

“Ours  are  the  mines  of  the  Indies 

And  the  treasures  of  broad  Cathay  ’ ’ ; 
And  the  dames  of  the  South  walk  proudly, 
Where  the  fig  and  the  orange  fall, 

And,  hid  in  the  high  magnolias, 

The  mocking  thrushes  call ; 

But  the  Mountain  Maid,  New  Hampshire, 
Is  the  rarest  of  them  all! 


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Drawn  by  J.  Warren  Thyng.  Engraved  by  Eugene  Mulerts 

THE  OLD  MILL 


Cbe  ©lb  .(©ill 


By  Maurice  Baldwin 


An  old  mill,  falling  to  picturesque  ruin,  has  ever  been  a subject  of 
peculiar  interest  to  the  painter,  as  well  as  a favorite  theme  of  the  poet. 
Associations,  joyous  or  sad,  blend  with  the  moss  and  the  decay  and 
cling  to  the  relic  of  years  long  past. 

Mills  like  that  which  our  artist  and  poet  have  so  beautifully  pic- 
tured, have  almost  become  only  a memory.  Few  of  the  many  that 
the  hillside  streams  once  turned,  can  now  be  found  in  the  state  ; and 
these  are  remote  from  main  highways. 

Older  residents  of  Gilford,  seeing  its  likeness,  will  readily  call  to 
mind  the  old  mill  that  once  stood  on  the  brook  a short  distance  beyond 
the  village.  Not  long  ago  the  last  timbers  of  the  ruin  fell,  and  little 
remains  to  mark  the  spoTwhere  it  stood. — Editor. 


I And  its  broken  wheel  is  still ; 

On  the  stream’s  untroubled  breast 


OSSES  cover  the  Old  Mill, 


Spotless  lilies  rear  their  crest, 
But  the  willows  whisper  yet 


Things  they  never  can  forget — 


~U  ■' " !.)'•  r • v'<  ‘ : 

■■  . uri  • *’:0Vbi  : • .'7/ 


Vi;  - ■ 


~ r~  j : i,i>  • ' 

■ 


! ■ 1 • 


--'.Vi- : 


THE  OLD  MILL 


Days  when  all  the  world  was  young, 
Days  when  happy  children  sung, 
Underneath  their  branches,  songs 
With  no  burden  of  life’s  wrongs; 
Days  when  work,  with  merry  sound, 
Filled  the  sun’s  unclouded  round — 

Stream  and  Mill  are  dreaming  o’er 
All  the  busy  days  of  yore, 

When,  with  many  a creak  and  strain, 
They  once  ground  the  farmer’s  grain, 
And  a half-sad  beauty  clings 
To  the  worn-out  useless  things, 

O sweet  Glamour  of  Decay, — 

Bloom  of  things  that  pass  away  ! 
Thou  dost  lend  a tender  grace 
To  the  Past’s  time-softened  face; 
Sweet  and  dim  the  old  days  seem 
Like  our  memories  of  a dream. 


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C1 


’HAT  country  alone  is  great  whose  manufacturing 
advantages  are  allied  with  the  cunning  of  the  brain 
and  the  skill  of  the  human  hand.  It  is  true  that 
agriculture  is  the  oldest  employment  of  man  and  its  accom. 
plishment  the  foundation  of  his  upbuilding,  but  it  never 
lifts  a timber  above  the  sills  of  his  superstruction.  “Home, 
ward  the  plowman  plods  his  weary  way”  empty-handed. 
The  barbarian  may  be,  and  often  is,  an  agriculturist,  but 
his  feet  are  earth-bound.  The  shepherd,  tending  his  flocks 
on  the  sunny  slopes  of  some  Iverness,  may  fill  an  idyllic 
life,  but  he  is  only  a dreamer.  The  range  of  the  Arab  is 
as  far-reaching  as  the  ring  of  his  fleet-footed  steed;  the 
roof  of  his  tent  is  as  wide  as  the  blue-arched  dome  of  the 
Persian  sky,  and  his  freedom  undoubted;  but  his  legacy  to 
posterity  is  as  barren  as  the  sands  of  Sahara.  It  is  not 
until  man  begins  to  exercise  his  fertile  mind  in  the  inven- 
tion and  making  of  those  things  which  shall  enable  him  to 
broaden  the  scope  of  his  labors  that  he  starts  on  his 
upward  course. 

Even  in  this  stage  of  progress,  his  capacity  to  do  and 
attempt  is  helpless  until  he  calls  to  his  assistance  the 
latent  powers  of  nature.  Then  the  river  becomes  his 
most  potent  ally.  As  an  agricultural  territory  New  Hamp- 
shire could  never  have  become  to  any  extent  a noticeable 
factor  in  the  march  of  progress  or  power.  But  with  her 

85 


86 


TEXTILE  INDUSTRY  IN  NEW  ENGLAND 


excellent  water  privileges,  in  proportion  to  her  area,  she  is 
in  the  ranks  of  the  progressive  states.  And  the  Merrimack, 
“the  busiest  river  in  the  world,”  is  the  source  of  her  great- 
ness. Not  only  does  this  “river  of  broken  waters”  afford 
the  power  for  the  majority — the  most — of  her  manufactur- 
ing industries,  but  it  has  given  the  impetus  to  the  progress 
and  growth  of  four  prominent  cities  of  the  Bay  State, 
Lowell,  Lawrence,  Haverhill  and  Amesbury.  Passing  by 
this  quartet  of  industrial  centers,  of  which  we  hope  to 
speak  later,  we  will  in  this  number  sketch  the  development 
of  those  gigantic  manufacturing  interests  made  possible  by 
the  falls  of  Amoskeag. 

This  rugged  waterfall  has  a descent  of  forty-five  feet, 
carrying  over  its  dam,  when  the  water  has  a depth  of  one 
foot  above  its  rim,  3,700  to  3,800  cubic  feet  every  second 
during  the  working  hours  of  the  machinery  that  it  turns. 
The  current  of  the  river  is  so  slight  that  a flowage  is 
accomplished  which  reaches  back  to  the  falls  of  Annabesit.* 
or  Hooksett,  a distance  of  eight  miles.  The  area  covered 
is  443  acres,  and  the  average  rise  obtained  upon  October 
I,  1908,  was  3.325  inches.  The  river  above  Pawtucket 
Falls  at  Lowell  has  a flowage  of  eighteen  miles.  These, 
with  other  water  privileges  of  note,  help  to  make  the 
Merrimack  the  river  remarkable  for  its  power. 

It  was  as  noted  to  the  aboriginal  inhabitants  in  its 
pristine  glory  for  its  fisheries  as  it  is  to-day  for  its  manu- 
facturing industries.  Amoskeag  Falls  was  especially  well- 
-known  among  the  early  pioneers,  who  little  realized 
the  possibilities  lurking  under  the  lash  of  its  foaming 
current,  as  a “horrible  cataract.”  Hither  came  the  good 
Parson  McGregor,  as  early  as  the  summer  of  1719,  one  of 
the  very  first  of  the  white  settlers  in  this  vicinity,  to  gaze 
with  awe  and  pious  veneration  upon  the  falls.  The  first 
recorded  evidence  that  we  have  of  the  place  was  given  by 


*This  is  an  Indian  term  signifying  “little  place  for  fish,”  in  compar- 
son  to  Namaske,  or  Amoskeag,  “great  place  for  fish.” — Author. 


THE  AMOSKEAG  MANUEACTURING  COMPANY 


87 


Capt.  William  Tyng  in  December,  1703,  when  that  doughty- 
pioneer  led  his  band  of  snow-shoe  men  upon  their  memor- 
able wintry  march  into  the  “North  Country”  in  search  of 
Indian  prey. 

The  first  man  to  express  his  belief  in  the  possibilities 
of  this  water  power  was  Judge  Samuel  Blodget.  But  his 
mind  and  means  were  engrossed  in  the  subtile  undertak- 
ing of  setting  at  defiance  the  waterfalls  by  building  his 
canals.  He  came  upon  the  scene  of  action  too  early  to 
lead  the  way  in  this  enterprise,  as  he  certainly  would  have 
done  had  he  been  born  a few  years  later.  Thus  it  was  left  to 
a worthy  pioneer  in  New  England  manufactories,  Mr.  Benja- 
min Prichard,  to  harness  the  legions  of  an  idle  river  to  the 
looms  of  industry.  He  had  served  his  apprenticeship  at 
Ipswich,  where  the  first  cotton  mill  had  been  erected  in 
New  Hampshire  in  1803.  After  working  here  six  years, 
this  ambitious  young  man,  in  conjunction  with  three 
brothers  named  Ephraim,  David  and  Robert  Stevens,  came 
to  Amoskeag,  then  a part  of  the  town  of  Goff st own,  and 
built  their  mill,  the  first  cotton  mill  on  the  Merrimack 
above  Pawtucket  Falls. 

The  business  grew  so  rapidly  that  it  was  soon  thought 
necessary  to  form  a stock  company,  which  was  christened 
“The  Amoskeag  Cotton  and  Wool  Factory.”  This  name 
was  changed  the  following  June  to  “The  Amoskeag  Cotton 
and  Woolen  Manufacturing  Company.”  The  first  board  of 
directors  consisted  of  James  Parker,  Samuel  P.  Kidder, 
John  Stark,  Jr.,  David  McQuestion  and  Benjamin  Prichard. 
The  first-named  was  chosen  president  and  Jotham  Gillis 
was  made  clerk  and  selling  agent.  He  was  succeeded  in 
order  by  Philemon  Walcott,  John  G.  Moor  and  Frederick 
Stark.  Compared  with  the  mills  of  to-day,  this  was  a 
primitive  affair,  having  neither  picker  nor  loom,  and  it 
made  but  slow,  though  deserving,  progress  along  its  un- 
trodden way.  No  small  meed  of  praise  belongs  to  those 
sanguine  leaders  in  the  industrial  world. 

The  factory  was  about  forty  feet  square  and  two 
stories  high,  situated  midway  between  the  head  and  foot  of 


88 


TEXTILE  INDUSTRY  IN  NEW  ENGLAND 


the  falls,  directly  below  the  west  end  of  Amoskeag  bridge. 
The  cotton  used  was  parcelled  out  to  the  families  living  in 
the  neighborhood,  to  be  ginned  at  four  cents  a pound. 
The  yarn  was  woven  by  hand  by  women  who  had  looms  in 
their  homes.  The  Rev.  Cyrus  W.  Wallace  said  in  one  of 
his  discourses: 

I have  examined  the  accounts  kept  in  the  beautiful  round  hand  of 
Jndge  Stark  for  the  month  of  October,  1813,  and  for  fifteen  days  in  succes- 
sion. During  the  month  there  were  manufactured,  at  Amoskeag,  three 
hundred  and  fifty-eight  skeins  per  day  of  cotton  yarn.  This  was  about 
the  average  amount:  the  three  hundred  and  fifty-eight  skeins  at  factory 
price  were  worth  twenty-nine  dollars  and  twenty-two  cents. 

After  some  changes  in  its  management  and  increased 
knowledge  and  capital,  in  1826,  the  old  original  mill  was 
enlarged  and  a new  one  was  built  upon  the  river  bank, 
with  another  upon  an  island,*  which  was  burned  May  14, 
1840.  The  second  structure  raised  on  the  bank  was  known 
as  “The  Bell  Mill,”  from  the  fact  that  a bell  there  called 
the  operatives  to  work.  Shirtings,  sheetings  and  tickings 
were  now  manufactured,  the  latter  commodity  winning  a 
wide  reputation  as  the  “A.  C.  A.”  tickings.  Both  of  the 
mills  upon  the  bank  were  consumed  by  fire  March  28,  1848. 

Until  July  13,  1831,  the  manufacturing  was  carried  on 
as  a private  enterprise  with  varying  success  according  to 


*This  island  was  reached  by  a bridge  that  spanned  the  rapids  from  the 
west  bank,  near  where  the  P.  C.  Cheney  Paper  Mills  were  afterwards  built. 
The  fire  which  destroyed  the  island  mill  seems  to  have  been  the  first  fire 
of  special  mention  in  Manchester.  A local  writer,  Mr.  E.  F.  Roper,  in 
the  Observant  Citizen’s  column  in  the  Union , says  that  in  1846  there  were 
several  buildings  on  the  island,  namely:  a machine  shop,  foundry,  dry 
house  and  a large  house  occupied  by  three  families.  Cyrus  Baldwin,  who 
afterwards  invented  the  seamless  bag  loom,  was  boss  of  the  shops. 
Among  the  hands  were  two  who  deserve  especial  notice:  S.  H.  Roper,  the 
builder  of  the  first  successful  steam  carriage,  and  G.  A.  Rollins,  who  later 
built  steam  engines  at  Nashua.  The  other  cotton  mills  were  nearer  the 
village,  which  it  was  then  believed  was  to  become  the  heart  of  the  coming 
city.  This  was  in  the  days  when  Farmer  owned  the  old  hotel  or  tavern,  a 
noted  resort,  and  John  Allison  kept  the  village  grocery. — Author. 


THE  AMOSKEAG  MANUFACTURING  COMPANY 


89 


the  capital  and  exprience  given  it.  Upon  July  i of  this 
year,  the  state  legislature  authorized  the  formation  of  the 
Amoskeag  Manufacturing  Company  with  a capital  limited 
to  a million  dollars,  a great  sum  for  that  day.  The  incorpo- 
rators were  Oliver  Dean,  Ira  Gay,  Willard  Sayles,  Larned 
Pitcher,  Lyman  Tiffany  and  Samuel  Slater.  At  the  first 
meeting  Mr  Tiffany  was  chosen  president;  Mr.  Gay  was 
made  clerk,  and  Oliver  Dean  agent  and  treasurer. 

This  was  the  most  important  meeting  ever  held  in  the 
interest  of  the  company,  inasmuch  as  its  counsels  and  acts 
laid  the  foundation  of  the  future  of  the  manufacturing 
interests  of  the  Merrimack  at  this  place.  It  was  unani- 
mously agreed  that  the  property  of  the  old  firm  should  be 
taken  for  stock  in  the  new  company,  and  it  was  decided 
that  the  new  organization  should  acquire  possession  by 
purchase  the  title  to  the  land  on  both  sides  of  the  river, 
though  it  was  settled  that  henceforth  the  main  mills  should 
be  located  upon  the  east  bank,  where  the  engineers 
declared  it  was  most  feasible  to  build  canals  and  to  utilize 
the  water  power.  The  company,  in  1835,  acquired  the 
property  of  the  Isle  of  Hooksett  Canal  Company,  the  Bow 
Canal  Company  and  the  Union  Locks  and  Company, 
located  at  different  points  along  the  river.  The  following 
year  the  Hooksett  Manufacturing  Company,  which  had  a 
capital  of  two  hundred  thousand  dollars,  was  merged  with 
the  Amoskeag.  About  this  time  the  first  brick  mill  upon  the 
Merrimack  was  built  in  Hooksett  from  brick  made  near  at 
hand.  The  falls  here  have  a perpendicular  descent  of  six- 
teen feet  and  are  capable  of  carrying  one  hundred  thousand 
spindles.  The  Amoskeag  Company  operated  this  privilege 
until  1865,  when  it  sold  the  franchise  to  a new  corporation 
with  a capital  stock  of  one  million  dollars,  authorized  by 
the  legislature.  In  1837  the  Concord  Manufacturing  Com- 
pany became  a part  of  the  Amoskeag. 

The  Amoskeag  Manufacturing  Company  not  only 
obtained  a control  of  the  water  power  of  the  Merrimack 
from  Concord  to  Manchester,  but  purchased  large  tracts 


90 


TEXTILE  INDUSTRY  IN  NEW  ENGLAND 


of  land,  fifteen  hundred  acres  on  the  east  side,  joining 
upon  the  river  und  reaching  back  into  what  was  then  wild 
country.  In  1837  the  company  made  a plan  of  the  future 
city  of  Manchester,  and  laid  out  the  site  of  a town,  with 
the  main  street  running  parallel  with  the  river,  and  in  1838 
it  sold  land  divided  into  lots  for  building  and  business 
privileges.  This  movement  not  only  brought  into  the 
market  much  land  to  become  valuable  in  the  following 
years,  increasing  as  time  passed  by,  but  it  opened  the  way 
to  the  coming  city.  This  wise  foresight  is  seen  to-day  in 
the  well-arranged  streets  and  commons  that  are  such  a 
blessing  to  our  city,  making  it  one  of  the  best-regulated  in 
New  England. 

In  the  meantime  the  company  had  been  active  in  its 
own  direct  business.  The  wooden  dam  across  the  river, 
built  a few  years  before,  was  repaired  in  1836,  and  the  fol- 
lowing year  the  construction  of  a wing  dam  of  stone,  with 
guard  locks,  was  begun  on  the  east  side.  This  was  com- 
pleted in  1840.  In  1838  the  rights,  site  and  water  privi- 
leges, for  a new  company,  incorporated  as  the  Stark  Mills, 
were  sold  which  corporation  exists  to-day.  The  first 
building  erected  on  the  east  side  was  the  Stark  Mills 
counting  room,  a part  of  which  was  used  for  a time  by  the 
land  and  water  power  department  of  the  Amoskeag  Manu- 
facturing Company.  The  first  mills  built  on  the  east  side 
were  Nos.  1 and  2 of  the  Stark  Corporation,  and  were 
erected  in  1838  and  1839,  respectively. 

After  the  burning  of  the  Island  Mill  in  1840,  the 
Amoskeag  Company  built  two  new  ones  just  below  the 
Stark  Mills,  and  added  to  these  as  their  demands  increased. 
A machine  shop  was  built  in  1840  and  in  1842  a foundry  to 
meet  the  requirements  of  the  increasing  business.  In 
1845  they  sold  land  for  a new  corporation,  known  as  the 
Manchester  Print  Works,  and  erected  mills  for  the  new 
company.  This  corporation,  after  over  fifty  years  of  suc- 
cessful operation,  in  1905  was  absorbed  by  the  Amoskeag 
Company  and  its  mills  are  to-day  a part  of  the  property 


THE  AMOSKEAG  MANUFACTURING  COMPANY 


91 


and  business  of  that  company.  In  1859  the  manufacture 
of  the  famous  Amoskeag  steam  fire  engines  was  begun. 

During  this  period  of  constant  growth  of  its  industry 
the  original  idea  of  the  development  of  a city  was  ever 
prominent  in  the  purposes  of  the  company.  Tenements 
and  boarding-houses  for  their  operatives  and  those  working 
for  the  other  corporations  were  erected,  and  land  sold  for 
business  sites  and  dwelling  houses.  In  the  matter  of 
public  buildings  a generous  and  beneficial  policy  was  car- 
ried out,  land  being  given  for  sites  of  churches  and  public 
buildings. 

These  founders  of  the  Amoskeag  Manufacturing 
Company,  and  incidentally  the  founders  of  Manchester, 
deserve  a large  meed  of  credit  for  their  sagacity  and  enter- 
prise. It  must  be  remembered,  when  an  account  of  their 
work  is  taken  into  consideration,  that  their  undertaking 
was  entirely  along  an  unmarked  path.  The  manufacture 
of  the  goods  they  purposed  to  put  on  the  market  was 
in  the  infancy  of  its  growth  even  in  England,  then  in  the  lead 
of  the  manufactures  of  the  world.  There  were  no  practical 
mechanics  in  the  country  to  accomplish  any  design  they 
might  invent.  It  was  only  a short  time  before  their  organ- 
ization that  it  had  been  found  expedient  to  manufacture  raw 
cotton  into  finished  cloth  in  the  same  mill,  and  thus  two 
distinct  branches  Ead  been  carried  on  to  accomplish  one 
result.  The  power  loom  was  the  means  to  revolutionize  the 
outcome  and  it  has  been  claimed,  with  what  seems  good 
authority,  that  Phinehas  Adams,  Sr.,  was  the  first  man  in 
America  to  successfully  run  the  power  loom.  No  prouder 
monument  to  their  success  is  needed  than  the  great  indus- 
try and  prosperous  city  which  has  sprung  up  on  the 
unsightly  sandbanks  overlooking  the  scene  of  their  labors. 

This,  in  brief,  is  the  story  of  the  rise  and  progress  of 
the  Amoskeag  Manufacturing  Company,  giving  employ- 
ment to  over  15,000  persons  and  having  an  annual  output 
of  about  200,000,000  yards  of  cotton  cloth  and  20,000,000 
yards  of  worsted  cloth.  The  mills  have  a floor  space  of 


92 


TEXTILE  INDUSTRY  IN  NEW  ENGLAND 


no  acres  and  have  600,000  spindles  with  19,000  looms 
The  weekly  pay-roll  is  $112,000  and  the  amount  of  capital 
invested  is  $5,760,900.  What  is  termed  as  the  quick  cap- 
ital is  at  $10,412,521.19,  which  represents  the  assets.  The 
land  and  water  power  is  valued  at  $400,000;  the  mills  and 
machinery,  $2,550,000;  reserve,  $10,000;  bag  mill,  $40,000; 
plant,  $3,000,000.  The  report  of  the  treasurer  at  a recent 
meeting  of  the  stockholders  showed  that  during  the  past 
year  the  company  has  spent  $500,000  in  the  purchase  of 
new  machinery,  and  that  the  profit  and  loss  is  placed  at 
$1,924,993.44.  The  cotton  goods  on  hand  June  30,  1907, 
were  valued  at  $512,911.41;  cost  of  manufacture,  $14,969,- 
932.94;  interest,  $13,265.04;  guarantee,  $52,648.46;  profit 
for  twelve  months,  $1,250,655.49;  total,  $16,799,413.34; 
goods  sold,  $16,109,124.75;  goods  on  hand  June  30,  1908, 
$690,288.59;  total,  $16,799,413.34.  In  the  worsted  goods 
department  there  were  on  hand  a year  ago,  dyed  and 
finished,  980,253  yards,  while  there  has  been  finished  dur- 
ing the  year,  12,301,687%  yards;  total,  13,281,940  yards. 

This  company  at  least  has  avoided  the  common 
mistake  made  by  Americans  in  many  lines  of  industries, 
where  a person  is  allowed  to  come  to  the  front  poorly 
equipped  for  the  responsibility  that  he  has  to  fill.  The 
Amoskeag  Company  believes  that  no  man,  however  keen 
in  his  perception,  can  master  a trade  in  a short  time,  and 
this  is  at  least  one  place  where  skill  is  fostered  and  experi- 
ence counts  above  a passing  claim  to  utility.  The  result  is 
evident  to  the  most  casual  beholder.  Employing  a high 
grade  of  labor  and  having  a management  conducted  upon 
principles  of  integrity  and  fair  dealing,  the  Amoskeag 
Manufacturing  Company  has  moved  steadily  and  smoothly 
on  in  the  industrial  sphere  whether  the  tide  of  business 
ebbed  or  flowed. 

Herman  F.  Straw  is  the  present  clerk  of  the  corpora- 
tion, and  the  board  of  directors  elected  are  T.  Jefferson 
Coolidge,  George  A.  Gardner,  George  Dexter,  Charles 
W:  Amory,  George  Von  Meyer,  T.  Jefferson  Coolidge,  Jr., 


Drawn  for  this  Magazine  by  J.  Warren  Thyng 


‘Its  pines  above,  its  waves  below, 
The  west  wind  down  it  blowing.” 


<®ur  fttber 

By  John  Greenleaf  Whittier 

The  following  beautiful  tribute  was  written  for,  and  read  at,  a summer 
festival  held  at  “The  Laurels,”  on  the  banks  of  the  Merrimack,  in  1878. 


NCE  more  on  yonder  laurelled  height 
The  summer  flowers  have  budded; 
Once  more  with  summer's  golden  light 
The  vales  of  home  are  flooded; 

And  once  more,  by  the  grace  of  Him 
Of  every  good  the  Giver, 

We  sing  upon  its  wooded  rim 
The  praises  of  our  river: 


Its  pines  above,  its  waves  below, 

The  west-wind  down  it  blowing, 

As  fair  as  when  the  young  Brissot 
Beheld  it  seaward  flowing, — 

And  bore  its  memory  o’er  the  deep, 

To  soothe  a martyr’s  sadness, 

And  fresco,  ia  his  troubled  sleep, 

His  prison-walls  with  gladness. 

We  know  the  world  is  rich  with  streams 
Renowned  in  song  and  story, 

Whose  music  murmurs  through  our  dreams 
Of  human  love  and  glory: 

We  know  that  Arno’s  banks  are  fair, 

And  Rhine  has  casled  shadows, 

And,  poet-tuned,  the  Doon  and  Ayr 
Go  singing  down  their  meadows. 

But  while,  unpictured  and  unsung 
By  painter  or  by  poet, 

Our  river  waits  the  tuneful  tongue 
And  cunning  hand  to  show  it, — 


. 


■ 


ill  sW 

. 


( n;rl  gnm^uo  I)fiA 


OUR  RIVER 


We  only  know  the  fond  skies  lean 
Above  it,  warm  with  blessing, 

And  the  sweet  soul  of  our  Undine 
Awakes  to  our  caressing. 

No  fickle  sun-god  holds  the  flocks 
That  graze  its  shores  in  keeping; 

No  icy  kiss  of  Dian  mocks 
The  youth  beside  it  sleeping: 

Our  Christian  river  loveth  most 
The  beautiful  and  human; 

The  heathen  streams  of  Naiads  boast, 

But  ours  of  man  and  woman. 

The  miner  in  his  cabin  hears 
The  ripple  we  are  hearing; 

It  whispers  soft  to  homesick  ears 
Around  the  settler’s  clearing: 

In  Sacramento’s  vales  of  corn. 

Or  Santee’s  bloom  of  cotton, 

Our  river  by  its  valley  born 
Was  never  yet  forgotten. 

But  blue  skies  smile,  and  flowers  bloom  on, 
And  rivers  still  keep  flowing, — 

The  dear  God  still  his  rain  and  sun 
On  good^and  ill  bestowing. 

His  pine-trees  whisper,  “Trust  and  wait!’’ 
His  flowers  are  prophesying 
That  all  we  dread  of  change  or  fall 
His  love  is  underlying. 

And  thou,  O Mountain-born! — no  more 
We  ask  the  Wise  Allotter 
Than  for  the  firmness  of  thy  shore. 

The  calmness  of  thy  water, 

The  cheerful  lights  that  overlay 
Thy  rugged  slopes  with  beauty, 

To  match  our  spirits  to  our  day 
And  make  a joy  of  duty. 


\ 

..  . . - i. . - 

. 

. 

i ' - ; i * :■-•••:  ■ ! 

' 

• ■ 


Bt  tfje  Jfalte  of  ^amosfceag 

By  Allen  Eastman  Cross 


When  Samuel  Blodget  predicted  that  ancient  Derryfield  was  one  day  “destined  to 
become  the  Manchester  of  America,”  he  stood  by  the  falls  of  Amoskeag.  There  was  the 
power  that  made  possible  a great  manufacturing  city.  It  has  seemed  to  me  that  there  was  no 
theme  more  vital  to  the  growth  of  the  city  of  Manchester,  or  more  poetic  in  its  suggestiveness, 
than  these  same  falls.  I have,  therefore,  woven  their  legend  and  history  into  verse,  calling 
them  by  their  former  Indian  name,  the  Falls  of  Namoskeag. — Author . 


Three  souls  shall  meet  in  our  gracious  river, 

The  soul  of  the  mountains,  stanch  and  free, 
The  soul  of  the  Indian,  “ Lake  of  the  Spirit,” 
And  the  infinite  soul  of  the  shining  sea. 

One  hath  its  birth  by  the  granite  mountain, 

Where  a mighty  face  looks  out  alone, 

Across  the  world  and  adown  the  ages, 

Like  the  face  of  the  Christ  in  the  living  stone. 

One  flows  from  the  water  of  Winnipesaukee, 
Bearing  ever  where  it  may  glide, 

As  the  Indians  named  that  beautiful  water, 

“ The  smile  of  tire  Spirit”  upon  its  tide. 

And  the  soul  of  the  sea  is  at  Little  Harbor, 

Or  Strawberry  Bank  of  the  olden  time, 

Where  first  DeMonts  and  his  dreaming  voyageurs 
Sailed  in  quest  of  a golden  clime. 

' Tis  said  that  Power  is  the  soul  of  our  river, 
Plunging  down  from  the  gulfs  and  glooms 
Of  its  mountain  valleys  to  fall  in  splendor, 

Or  drive  the  belts  of  the  myriad  looms. 

To  some  the  soul  of  the  stream  is  Beauty. 

That  pours  from  its  beautiful  lake  above 
In  silver  ripples  and  golden  eddies, 

Like  the  seer’s  stream  from  the  throne  of  love. 


97 


...  • ’ 


• • - ■ . : 

r e.  • !.'  f •-  ' v i • . - 

,W-j  -.5^  r .:*  vuf',  sctj  • fell-*  t-ad» 

. • : ' : 

. 


' 


AT  THE  FALLS  OF  NAMOSKEAG 


99 


And  once,  to  this  stream  with  its  double  burden, 
There  came  a soul  akin  to  his  own ; 

The  heart  of  the  river  was  in  his  preaching ; 

The  voice  of  the  ripples  was  in  his  tone ; 


And  he  stood  by  the  falls  in  the  golden  weather, 

Under  the  elm  leaves,  mirrored  brown 
In  the  pictured  waters,  and  told  his  hearers 

How  the  Heart  of  the  stars  and  the  stream  came  down, 


As  a little  child  to  its  mother’s  bosom, 

With  a wonder  at  hatred  in  his  eyes, 

And  an  image  of  peace  from  the  one  Great  Spirit 
Like  the  light  in  the  stream  from  the  glowing  skies. 

And  e’en  while  he  spake,  as  the  stream  in  its  flowing 
Takes  tints  of  the  twilight  and  jeweled  gleams 

Of  the  oak  and  maple,  on  Eliot’s  spirit 
Lay  heavenly  visions  and  starry  dreams, 

And  with  only  the  chant  of  the  falls  in  the  silence, 
While  the  nets  and  the  spears  uncared  for  lay, 

Again  as  of  old  the  Christ  was  standing 
By  the  lodges  of  Passaconaway. 

• 

* * * 

An  hundred  times  had  the  glistening  salmon 
Flashed  in  the  falls  since  that  sunset  hour; 

An  hundred  times  had  the  black  ducks  flying 
Followed  the  stream  ; and  the  Spirit  of  Power 

That  sleeps  in  the  river,  still  waited  to  welcome 
A heart  like  its  own  to  reveal  again, 

As  Eliot  uttered  its  beautiful  spirit, 

Its  soul  of  power  to  the  souls  of  men. 


The  wands  of  the  willow  are  deeper  amber, 
The  coral  buds  of  the  maple  bloom  ; 

The  alders  redden,  the  wind  flowers  blossom, 
And  sunshine  follows  the  winter’s  gloom. 


;*»0C-  iM  ni  -i  Vt.  la  ®oio  .KT 


■'  •"  ■'  -v  ■ ■ - . - ...  . 

• . io  n ii  ; I 


.‘•:W  (?rn.  «'  ••  MJi.  -•  . jif 

: '^3  i ' ' "Tlr  - ' - . . . | 

'*  ’,0*  "■  »'  • fc  . jg  I-  ..  ?.  . . bn/, 

» »h>  ,-f  has  rfno 

vr.*vj3  blur  fr  i»f  • - ' . .5  ’ 

,9:  *tu  ■ ; , ' . t,  f , ■*  /•. 

8r  ^ *•  mil  j .4  ni 


t9qty)b  ais  woilrr/  ■->  <j  3o  tfcatnr  srfT 

. i:  >e«c  fi  jrfT 

ac^  e't»Jur/r  • /;  oil* . , anh'euu!  . t\ 


£ 


¥ 


AMOSKEAG  FALLS  IN  WINTER 


AT  THE  FALLS  OF  NAMOSKEAG 


101 


The  smile  of  the  spirit  is  still  on  the  waters, 

The  chime  on  the  stones  of  the  Namoskeag  fall, 

But  the  soul  of  the  hills  as  it  leaps  to  the  ocean 
To  freedom  and  valor  seems  to  call. 

At  the  door  of  his  mill,  by  the  swirl  of  the  rapids, 
Feeling  the  spirit  that  subtly  thrills, 

From  the  spray  of  the  falls  like  an  exhalation, 

Is  resting  our  hero  of  the  hills. 

He  had  won  the  name  when  he  ran  the  gantlet, 
Bursting  the  Indian  lines  in  twain, 

Or  made  his  foray  to  save  his  comrades 

Through  the  frozen  forests  of  far  Champlain. 

Now  the  swish  of  the  saw  and  the  creak  of  the  timber, 
And  the  swirl  of  the  rapids  alone  he  heard, 

When  sudden — a clatter  of  hoofs  down  the  river — 

A horseman,  a shout,  and  the  rallying’word 

Of  yesterday’s  fighting  by  Concord  river, 

Of  the  blood  on  the  green  of  Lexington — 

That  was  all!  yet  the  mill  gate  fell,  and  the  miller, 

Left  the  saw  to  rust  in  the  cut,  and  was Jgone, 


’Twas  the  word  of"  the  Lord  through  the  Merrimack  valley, 
From  Derryfield  down  to  Pawtucket’s  fall, 

That  rang  from  his  lips,  to  rise  and  to  follow, 

As  the  leader  thundered  his  rallying’call. 


’ Twas  the  sword  of  the  Lord  from  the  leader’s  scabbard 
That  flashed  in  defiance  of  British  wrong, 

As  the  rallying  farmers  galloped  after 
Riding  to  Medford  a thousand  strong. 

* * * 

A golden  cycle  of  years  has  vanished 

Since  the  Derryfield  minute-man  left  his  mill 
To  lead  the  patriots  down  the  valley 
To  “the  old  rail  fence”  on  Bunker  Hill. 


/ ‘ > H'.i*.  _•  • • •'  1 

. - ■ ■ ■ ■ .■ 

ilLso • ;•  ..  / t-*.-  >i 


• ' . : ■ ■ '■* 

. 


.Jo;*.,.  fil  r .*  ' V > ‘ 

■ •■••••  ' ' ’ 

.xi-  ’ " : 

••  •••  • • 

. 

....  >.  , ■ 

- •••  * : 

»» 

. 

- - ■ ‘ : • ■ 


AT  THE  FALLS  OF  NAMOSKEAG 


103 


The  years  flow  on  and  sweep  in  their  flowing 
Legend  and  life  to  the  infinite  sea — 

A city  stands  by  the  grave  of  the  hero, 

Where  the  lodges  and  camps  were  wont  to  be. 

Unchanged  and  changeless  flows  the  river, 

But  blended  now  with  its  ceaseless  chime 
Is  the  rhythmic  beating  of  mighty  hammers, 

And  a hum  like  the  bees  in  summer  time. 

But  the  hum  of  the  looms  and  the  clank  of  the  hammers, 
Will  hush  to  the  chime  of  the  Sabbath  bells, 

While  the  soul  of  the  stream  from  the  Lake  of  the  Spirit 
The  story  of  Eliot’s  Master  tells. 

The  years  flow  on  like  the  flowing  river, 

With  peaceful  eddies  and  daring  falls 
But  if  ever  the  life  of  the  state  is  perilled, 

If  duty  summons  or  country  calls, 


The  soul  of  the  hills  and  the  stream  will  waken 
As  it  woke  in  the  ancient  minute-men, 

And  the  hearts  of  the  sons  like  the  hearts  of  the  fathers 
Will  bleed  for  their  country’s  life  again. 


0/  V '-Oi.'-A  . r TA 


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,aifed  rf.  d<ffi2  srii  lo  2-  ; 1 aril  ol  ri?.  irf  fliW 

»h:i:2  aril  lo  aril  moil  m..vj  srii  lo  IuO'  adi  diiriV/ 


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Carl}>  ©ietos  of 

Cotons 


Photo  by  Fred  K.  Hazen 


AMOSKEAG  FALLS 


Sflong  tfje 


JPemmacfe 


Jfrom  <Pl b Prints 


EARLY  VIEWS  ALONG  THE  MERRIMACK 


CONCORD,  IN  1855 


Contort) 


CONCORD  is  the  oldest  capital  in  New  England. 
Here  in  the  misty  days  of  the  primeval  power  of 
the  Pennacooks,  long  before  the  historian  rises  to 
describe  an  empire  wider  and  more  far-reaching  than  the 
territory  belonging  to  the  state  to  day,  it  was  the  seat  of 
power.  It  seemed  eminently  fitting,  therefore,  that  the 
conquerors  of  this  race,  which  passed  as  the  leaves  of  the 
forest,  should  look  upon  the  spot  as  the  site  of  their  capi- 
tal. Concord  is  most  fortunately  situated  for  the  center  of 
power  in  a state.  It  does  not  seek  the  distinction  of  its 
sister  cities  in  the  Merrimack  Valley,  and  it  is  well  that  it 
does  not. 

Tradition  says  that  the  first  settler  in  what  was  then 
known  as  Pennacook  was  Capt.  Ebenezer  Eastman,  who 
built  a block-house  here  in  1727  and  moved  into  it  with  his 
family.  The  territory  was  granted  by  Massachusetts  Jan- 
uary 17,  1725,  to  Benjamin  Stevens  and  ninety-nine  others, 
and  it  was  laid  out  the  following  year  seven  miles  square. 
Captain  Eastman  was  one  of  these  grantees.  At  first  the 
Indians,  who  were  Pennacooks,  were  friendly,  but  for 
nearly  twenty  years^  from  1744  to  1762,  almost  constant 
alarm  from  the  Indians  kept  the  inhabitants  awakened  to  a 
sense  of  their  dangerous  situation.  In  1746  as  many  as 
seven  garrisons  were  built  to  protect  the  homes  of  the 
families.  Despite  these  precautionary  movements  an 
attack  from  the  Indians  took  place  August  n,  1746,  when 
five  men  were  killed  and  two  carried  off  as  captives.  At 
the  time  of  the  Revolution  Concord  contained  1,052  inhab- 
itants, and  the  town  proved  its  faithfulness  to  the  cause  in 
no  uncertain  manner.  The  convention  which  framed  the 
State  Constitution  in  1783  met  here,  and  in  1805  it  became 
the  permanent  seat  of  State  Government. 


EARLY  VIEWS  ALONG  THE  MERRIMACK 


MANCHESTER,  1805 


^ancfjester 


» 


ANCH ESTER  was  a noted  place  with  the 
Indians  long  before  the  white  settlers  came,  on 
account  of  the  fisheries  at  Namaske  Falls  and 
around  Lake  Massabesic,  “Place  of  Much  Water.”  The 
first  white  man  to  build  a cabin  within  what  now  comprises 
the  territory  was  John  McNiel,  who  was  sent  to  the  Falls 
to  look  after  the  interests  of  the  Scotch-Irish  people  in 
Londonderry.  This  was  probably  in  1722.  No  perma- 
nent settlement  was  made,  however,  until  the  grant  of 
Tyng  Township  in  April,  1735.  From  that  date  a slow  but 
certain  growth  followed  until  1751,  when  upon  September 
3 a town  was  incorporated  under  the  name  of  Derryfield. 
This  name  clung  to  it  all  through  the  long  and  sanguinary 
years  of  the  French  and  Indian  War,  the  Revolution,  and 
the  Reconstruction  and  Constitutional  period  following  the 
strugglefor  Independence.  In  1810  its  name  was  changed 
to  Manchester,  so  called  after  Manchester,  England,  upon 
the  suggestion  of  Hon.  Samuel  Blodget,  and  its  era  of  pros- 
perity may  be  said  to  have  dawned.  Blodget’s  canal  had 
been  completed  three  years  before,  and  for  thirty-five  years 
the  Merrimack  was-the  maritime  highway  of  business  enter- 
prises. Up  and  down  its  rocky  banks  ran  the  canals  along 
which  was  moved  nearly  all  of  the  merchandise  for  the  cities 
from  Pawtucket  Falls  to  Concord,  and  also  for  the  interior 
towns  of  the  state.  In  this  stirring  period  Manchester  exer- 
cised, as  it  always  has,  a leading  part  in  the  development  of 
the  Merrimack  Valley.  The  first  saw-mills,  built  before  the 
opening  of  the  century  by  Blodget  and  Stark,  were  suc- 
ceeded by  the  first  of  the  mills  that  were  destined  to 
inaugurate  one  of  the  greatest  manufacturing  industries  in 
the  world,  which  has  been  instrumental  in  the  upbuilding 
of  the  metropolis  of  New  Hampshire.  The  first  car  came 
up  the  valley  in  1842. 


EARLY  VIEWS  ALONG  THE  MERRIMACK 


NASHUA,  IN  1851 


^agtfjua 

ASHUA  was  a part  of  the  old  township  of  Dun- 
■ rz  stable,  and  became  a separate  hamlet  under  the 
name  it  now  bears  in  1803.  The  date  of  its  set- 
tlement is  uncertain,  but  must  have  been  as  early  as  1673, 
when  it  belonged  to  Dunstable.  From  1675  to  1725  this  terri- 
tory was  constantly  threatened  by  the  Indians,  and  it  seems 
almost  miraculous  that  it  should  have  escaped  as  lightly  as  it 
did,  while  Exeter,  Dover  and  Portsmouth  were  ravaged 
almost  yearly.  No  doubt  this  fortunate  outcome  was  due 
largely  to  the  fact  that  Dunstable  held  some  of  the  most 
noted  Indian  fighters  of  the  day.  It  was  not  until  the  close 
of  the  French  and  Indian  Was  in  1763  that  the  inhabitants 
at  last  breathed  with  a feeling  of  safety. 

Growth  developed  slowly  through  the  years  that  fol- 
lowed. During  the  Revolution  the  handful  of  people 
(there  were  128  in  Dunstable  capable  of  bearing  arms) 
was  loyal  to  the  cause  of  liberty.  In  1795  there  were  no 
dwellings  where  now  stands  the  city.  July  4,  1803,  the 
village,  called  until  then  Indian  Head,  was  given  the  name 
of  Nashua,  and  the  natal  day  of  the  future  city  had  dawned. 
In  1842  that  part  of  the  town  north  of  Nashua  River  was 
set  off  by  the  name  of  Nashville,  but  in  1853  it  was  united 
with  the  village  on  the  south,  and  Nashua  obtained  its  city 
charter. 

Its  water  power  first  attracted  the  attention  of  manu- 
facturers in  1820,  and  from  that  time  the  development  of 
its  privileges  led  to  a rapid  and  healthy  growth  of  popula- 
tion. The  Nashua  Manufacturing  Company  received  its 
charter  in  1823,  and  from  this  beginning  a large  class  of 
manufacturing  interests  succeeded.  The  number  of  its 
inhabitants  was  approximately  ten  thousand  at  the  time 
our  artist  made  the  picture  accompanying  this  article.  The 
view  was  from  the  tower  of  Mount  Pleasant  school-house. 


VIEW  OF  COLBY  ACADEMY 


SCENES 

ALONG  THE 


PICTURESQUE 


MERRIMACK 


These  cuts  used  through  courtesy  ol  the  B.  & M.  R.  R. 

THE  POETRY  OF  WOODS  AND  WATERS 


comin(Vfroyi  the  heart  of  the  hills 


BY  SINGING  WATERS 


BELL  CASCADE,  WOODSTOCK 


PARTING  OF  THE  WATERS 


BASTON’S  MILL,  WOODSTOCK, 


Franconia.  Mountains  and  Pemigewasset  Fiber 


Pictures  from  a Picture  Land 


By  J.  WARREN  THYNG 


“Simon  Peter  saith  unto  them,  I go  a fishing. 
They  say  unto  him,  we  also  go  with  thee." 


O ALL  the  fortunate  ones  who,  like  the  school' 
master,  know  how  to  spend  the  summer  vaca' 
tion,  may  the  joy  which  floweth  as  a trout 
brook  from  healing  springs  in  the  hills  be  theirs, 
and  the  spell  never  be  lifted. 

***** 

Those  were  pleasant  vacation  days  when  we  sat  on  the 
piazza  of  Wildcat  Camp,  the  schoolmaster  smoking  a rerrt' 
iniscent  pipe  and  framing  bits  of  landscape  in  spirals  of  smoke. 
The  old  house  stands  in  a wild  glen  among  the  hills ; for  miles 
you  may  not  see  the  smoke  of  another  chimney.  A neglected 
byroad  runs  past  the  door~runs  on  to  deeper  solitude  and 
more  shameful  neglect.  On  either  side  of  the 
road  a trout  brook  comes  down  from  the  hills; 
that  is  why  the  schoolmaster,  the  minister  and 
the  law- man  are  here  with  me. 

One  evening  Macdonald  came  up  the  road 
that  leads  through  the  shadow  of  the  butternut 
trees  down  by  the  haunted  schooLhouse.  I was 
copying  out  these  notes  and  arranging  the  pic' 
tures  from  my  sketch-book,  when  the  Highlander 


Old  Man  of  the  Mountain 


Echo  Lake 


said,  "I  am  thinking,  schoolmaster, 
painter  may  be  Scottish  himself." 

"Do  you  think,  Macdonald, 
that  because  this  roof  leaks,  he 
would  sit  out  in  a Trosachs  rain 
to  sketch  Loch  Katrine?" 

"Not  so  much  that,  but  I have 
seen  many  a loch  and  burn  and  gray  brig  in  Scotland  like  the 
pictures  in  his  book.  The  blue  haze,  common  in  the  high- 
lands, and  in  the  mountains  of  Wales,  1 have  seen  in  your 
mountains;  and  on  the  Franconia  peaks  a rose-light  like  that 
which  comes  in  early  morning  on  Ben  Lomond." 

"In  Scotland,  you  have  the  wild  folk-lore  and  traditions 
of  centuries;  we  have  nothing  old  but  the  Old  Man  of  the 
Mountain,  and  only  the  geologist's  hammer  to  tell  how  old  he 
is.  He  does  not  talk,  Macdonald." 

"He  is  douce  enough,  schoolmaster." 

The  evening  wore  on.  The  Pleiades  glis- 
tened like  points  of  steel  so  clear  was  the  night. 

The  Highlander  fared  homeward  with  lighted 
pipe,fand  soon  was  lost  to  sight  in  the  shade  of 
the  butternut  trees  down  by  the  haunted  school- 
house. 

To  me,  the  valley  of  the  Pemigewasset 
is  the  picture  land  of  the  north  country,  and 
the  view  from  Woodstock  the  completest 
picture  in  the  mountain  district  of  New  Hamp- 
shire. It  serves  my  purpose  at  this  time  simply  to  express  a 
concrete  opinion;  but  were  it  necessary  to  generalize,  the  state- 
ment could  be  amply  supported  by  the  words  of  that  eminent 
writer,  and  recognized  authority  on  the  landscape  in  na- 
ture and  art,  Thomas  Starr  King,  whose  graceful  pen  has 
given  us  in  "The  White  Hills,  Legendary  and  Picturesque," 
the  only  permanent  literature  of  our  mountains,  lakes  and 

rivers.  Away  back  in  stage  coach 
days  it  was  the  driver's  custom  to 
stop  near  the  school-house  in 
Thornton,  and  direct  the  attention 
of  passengers  to  the  noble  view 
of  river  and  mountains,  and  for 


Agassiz  Basin 


Mountains  from  Woodstock 


many  years  the  prospect  from 
that  point  was  known  as  the 
"Starr  King  View."  The  scene 
is  graphically  described  in  his 
book,  ar.d  is  accompanied  by  a 
picture  drav\n  by  Whelock. 

George  L.  Brown,  called  "The  American  Claude/’  in  the 
times  when  painters  were  not  merely  "artists,"  but  were 
students,  held  the  view  of  the  Franconia  Mountains  from 
Woodstock  in  high  esteem.  Lucy  Larccm's  poem,  "The 
School  House  by  the  River,”  was  inspired  by  the  view  from 
Thornton. 

The  country  is  a region  of  diversified  interests;  trout 
brooks  are  numerous,  and  many  of  them  are  extremely 
picturesque.  Paths,  enchanting  as  fairy  land- 
lead  through  groves  of  balsam  far  into  the 
woods.  It  is  summer,  and  as  you  follow  a 
brook  with  fishing  rod,  perchance  a deer  is 
peeping  slyly  at  you.  By  and  by  winter  will 
come,  but  the  deer  returns  not  with  the  buds  of 
spring.  O,  wonderful  days  of  Christian  civil- 
ization ! Men  whose  hands  are  red  with  the 
blood  of  fawns  boast  of  the  lives  they 
have  taken ; lives  of  creatures  whose  bodies 
were  cleaner  than  theirs- -lives  that  were  purer 
than  their  slayer's.  They  owed  for  a few  mouthfuls  of  greens ; 
the  account  was  balanced  by  a crimson  stain.  "It  was  a 
glorious  Victory.” 

The  pictures  that  lie  along  every-day  paths  are  too  well 
known  to  need  comment  of  mine ; Artist’s  View  naturally  at- 
tracts many  visitors,  but  I am  inclined  to  regard  the  prospect 
from  Professor  Carpenter's  villa  as  by  far  the  better  view  of 
the  valley  and  mountains.  The  stroller  about  the  hamlet  of 
Woodstock  will  find  his  way  to  the 
interesting  geological  formation 
known  as  Agassiz /Easin,  and  he  will 
probably  puzzle  his  wits  cyphering 
out  the  queer  problem  of  Balanced 
Rock;  or  if  more  adventurous  he  will 


Mirror  Lake 


follow  the  guide’s  smoking  torch  through  the 
caverns  of  Lost  River,  as  Mr.  Huse  and  I did 
last  fall. 

* # # # 

It  is  a Sabbath  evening  in  the  hills;  the  circle 
of  mountains  widens  in  the  ambient  air,  afar 
over  the  tranquil  valley  to  purple  peaks  remote.. 

Door  of  Lost  Ri^er  ^ message  of  glad  tidings  comes  in  the  voice 
of  trees  and  the  perfume  of  the  fields,  and  over  all  rises  the 
anthem  of  the  pines  stirred  to  sound  by  the  breeze.  I have 
lighted  my  friendship  fire,  the  minister  has  read  from  Isaiah 
60th,  "Lift  up  thine  eyes  round  about  and  see;  all  they  gather 
themselves  together,  they  come  to  thee."  In  fancy  old  friends 
draw  around--the  true,  the  estranged,  the  false;  they  who 
are  chilled  by  the  shadows  of  earth,  and  they  who  are  cher- 
ished by  its  sunshine. 

The  shadow  on  the  dial  will 
not  wait ; the  vacation  ends,  and  au- 
tumn comes  with  its  glory. 

"Stains  and  splendid  dyes 
That  rival  the  tiger'moth's  deep  damasked 
wing.” 


Sunset  on  jPount  ttDasfjmgton 


By  George  Waldo  Brown® 


Standing  upon  the  roof  of  the  great  watershed  between  New 
England  and  Canada,  the  observer  gets  one  of  the  finest  views  of 
country  to  be  found  in  the  world.  On  the  north  lies  the  grand  valley 
of  the  mighty  St.  Lawrence,  walled  in  on  the  farther  side  by  the 
ancient  Laurentides.  On  the  south  he  looks  down  the  Appalachian 
slopes,  broken  by  “a  thousand  hills”  and  fringed  by  the  broken 
coast  line  of  the  Atlantic.  The  apex  of  this  lofty  position  was  Mount 
Washington,  the  sacred  realm  of  the  Amerinds,  where  it  is  believed 
dwelt  their  god.  Much  has  been  said  and  written  of  the  beauties  of 
a sunrise  as  seen  from  this  lofty  lookout,  but  these  are  more  than 
equalled  by  the  splendors  of  a sunset,  when  the  wounded  day  lifts  on 
high  its  tattered  banner  of  light  and  sends  afar  its  bright  javelins  of 
fate. — Author , 


The  twilight-watchers  ward  each  dark’ning  zone, 
And,  bolder  grown,  usurp  the  sunlight’s  throne. 

Blow,  west  wind,  blow!  ay,  set  the  wild  news  flying: 
“The  reign  of  day  is  o’er — its  king  is  dying!” 

The  sun,  a broken  circle,  half  concealed, 

Sinks  ’neath  the  glimmer  of  the  golden  field; 

A shining  halo  on  the  azure  space 

Fast  flees  beyond  the  walls  of  light  and  place. 

Moan,  east  wind,  moan,  ay,  set  the  wild  news  flying: 
“The  reign  of  day  is  o’er — its  king  is  dying!” 


HE  golden  arrows  cleave  thy  snowy  crown, 

While  thy  dark  vestments  take  a deeper  brown. 


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SUNSET  ON  MOUNT  WASHINGTON 


A crumbling  castle  'cross  the  shadowy  lands 
Against  the  sky  now  silhouetted  stands; 

A bar  of  bronze  and  silver  at  its  door 

Now  falls  the  wan  day’s  purple  threshold  o'er. 

Sigh,  south  wind,  sigh!  ay,  set  the  wild  news  flying: 
“The  reign  of  day  is  o'er — its  king  is  dying!” 

The  dusky  legions  leap  o’er  castled  wall, 

O'er  ramparts  frowning  high,  o’er  sky,  and  all; 

The  long  light  from  thy  hoary  summit  flees 
Like  spirit  hosts  across  the  forest  seas. 

Shriek,  north  wind,  shriek!  ay,  set  the  wild  news  flying: 
“The  king  is  dying!”  echo  answers  “dying!” 

The  twilight  hangs  a curtain  day  and  night 
Between.  Afar  and  near  the  stars  in  might 
Begin  their  watch7  while  Venus  sets  on  high 
Her  home-light  in  the  window  of  the  sky. 

Swift- winged  winds  abroad  the  news  have  spread: 

“The  day  is  done — its  king  is  dying — dead!” 


VipTOXiH-.  V.7  T^-UOr-;  7:0  T.  'r  /.  - : < 


. 

T « r ?i\  li  ■ ■/  L ■ 1 : ^ / 


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1 


-sg  PART  TWO  its- 


Sntuan  ^Trabttionsi  anb  JfolMore 

Cfte  OaniSfjeb  HaceS 


“Like  leaves  on  trees  the  race  of  man  is  found; 

Now  green  in  youth,  now  withering  on  the  ground; 

Another  race  the  following  spring  supplies; 

They  fall  successive  and  successive  rise; 

So  generations  in  their  course  decay; 

So  flourish  these  when  those  are  passed  away,” 

CCORDING  to  the  traditions  of  the  Amerinds,  two 
TT 1 great  families  of  their  people,  the  Lenni  Lenape, 

which  term  meant  the  “original  people,”  and  the 
Mengwe  or  Maqua  came  from  the  extreme  west  to  settle  in 
the  fertile  valley  of  the  Mississippi,  “The  Father  of 
Waters.”  The  first-named  tribe  was  soon  met  in  deadly 
fight  by  the  Alligewi  or  Allegheny  warriors,  who  made 
such  a resistance  that  they  formed  an  alliance  with  the 
Mengwe  to  destroy  their  common  enemies.  Under  the 
conditions  of  this  league  the  Mengwes  took  the  country 
bordering  on  the  great  lakes,  reaching  from  Erie  to  Cham- 
plain, and  northward  to  the  highlands  of  the  Ottawa  and 
the  valley  of  the  St.  Lawrence.  In  their  onward  march 
the  Mengwes  overcame  or  united  with  them  in  their  con- 
quests, the  Oneidas,  Onodagas , Cayugas , and  Seneca , 
later  on  accepting  as  an  ally  the  Tuscaroas , who  had  come 
up  from  southland  to  unite  with  them.  At  first  known  as 
“The  Five  Nations,”  this  league  became  designated  as 
“The  Six  Nations,”  or  in  an  ethological  sense  as  the 
Iroquois.  If  crude  in  its  form,  and  the  different  factions 
forming  the  league  were  frequently  at  war  with  each  other, 
it  was  the  first  semblance  of  government  in  this  country  ? 
unless  it  were  some  race  whose  civilization  has  been  buried 
under  the  ruins  of  centuries.  They  were  undoubtedly  the 
most  crafty,  daring  and  intelligent  of  the  North  Amer- 
Copyrighted,  George  W.  Browne,  1908. 


10 


INDIAN  TRADITIONS  AND  FOLKLORE 


ican  races.  Either  separately  or  together  they  were  the 
terror  of  all  other  families  of  Amerinds.  The  five  tribes 
of  this  clan  were  stationed  in  palisaded  villages  surrounded 
by  great  fields  of  cultivated  crops  and  orchards,  extending 
in  a line  from  the  south  and  east  of  Erie  and  Ontario 
lakes,  from  which  peculiar  situation  came  their  name  “The 
People  of  the  Long  House.”  They  have  been  estimated  to 
number  from  15,000  to  20,000,  and  at  no  time  to  be  able  to 
muster  more  than  3,000  warriors. 

Pitted  against  the  Iroquois,  though  allied  by  kindred 
ties,  were  the  Hurons , numbering  about  16,000.  They 
dwelt  mainly  in  large  settlements  situated  in  a narrow  dis- 
trict comprising  a portion  of  the  water-shed  of  the  north- 
west, between  the  little  chain  of  lakes  running  south  from 
Georgian  Bay  nearly  down  to  lake  Ontario,  and  westward 
to  the  lake  bearing  their  name.  The  Hurons  were  what 
might  be  termed  an  agricultural  people,  though  they  made 
periodical  hunting  and  fishing  trips.  They  lived  in  bark 
cabins,  arranged  in  groups  and  surrounded  by  high  pali- 
sades, built  to  protect  themselves  from  their  enemies. 
Their  crops  were  corn,  beans,  pumpkins  and  tobacco. 
They  were  sharp  traders,  and  better  fighters  than  the  east- 
ern tribes  I am  soon  to  mention,  but  the  Iroquois  gradually 
drove  them  northward  and  eastward,  down  the  valley  of 
the  St.  Lawrence,  or  “Great  River  of  Canada.”  Upon  the 
site  of  Montreal  they  founded  their  ancient  capital,  Hoch- 
elega,  to  be  eventually  driven  from  this  by  their  long-time 
enemies. 

Separated  from  the  Hurons  by  a wide  stretch  of 
unbroken  forest  on  the  southwest  were  the  Petuns , Tion- 
atates , or  “Tobacco  Nation,”  noted  for  their  large  fields  of 
this  plant,  which  they  ever  found  in  ready  demand  from 
other  less  thrifty  tribes. 

To  the  west  of  Lake  Ontario,  dwelling  on  both  sides 
of  the  gorge  of  Niagara,  lived  a more  peaceful  tribe  than 
any  of  these,  who  on  account  of  their  ability  to  remain  on 
friendly  terms  with  the  warlike  factions  were  known  as 
“The  Neutral  Nation.” 


THE  VANISHED  RACES 


11 


The  French  first  came  in  contact  with  the  Hurons, 
who,  as  early  as  Champlain,  were  induced  to  become  their 
allies.  Even  that  astute  explorer  and  civilizer  of  the  Can- 
adian wilds  believed  their  friendship  of  greater  moment  to 
his  cause  than  any  other,  and  upon  the  shore  of  the  lake 
named  in  his  honor,  opened  hostilities  with  the  Mengwes, 
then  known  as  the  Mohawks,  the  leading  as  well  as  the 
oldest  of  the  Five  Nations.  This  attack  awakened  a deadly 
enmity,  which  did  not  expire  with  one  generation  but 
existed  for  a hundred  years,  a heritage  of  hatred.  It  was 
broken  only  by  the  iron  heel  of  Frontenac,  and  then  not 
until  new  France  had  become  so  weakened  as  to  fall  an 
easy  victim  to  her  old-time  white  enemy,  the  English. 

In  the  meantime  the  Iroquois  had  left  their  imprints 
upon  every  group  of  Amerinds  from  the  region  of  the 
Alleghany,  the  shores  of  the  great  lakes,  the  rock  of 
Quebec  to  the  valleys  of  the  Merrimack  and  the  Saco 
rivers.  Thus  they  figure  conspicuously  in  the  legends  and 
traditions  of  the  red  men  of  the  Granite  State. 

It  does  not  come  within  the  province  of  our  purpose 
to  more  than  mention  the  other  great  clans  of  Amerinds 
occupying  this  country  before  the  coming  of  the  white 
man,  who  was  to  destroy  that  civilization  already  becoming 
apparent,  under  the  slow  process  of  evolution,  and  rear 
upon  its  ruins  a form  which  itself  had  merged  from  the 
crushing  weight  of  barbarism.  There  were  the  Gherokees , 
Chickasaws,  Choctaws,  Creeks  and  Seminoles , all  natives 
of  a warmer  clime,  and  therefore  of  a milder  temperament, 
it  of  a less  energetic  disposition.  They,  estimated  to  num- 
ber about  50,000,  fell  in  more  easily  with  the  agricultural  pur- 
suits of  their  conquerors,  though  rapidly  fading  away  like 
the  leaves  of  a forest.  Beyond  the  Mississippi,  with  the 
Rocky  Mountains  as  their  bounds  on  the  west,  dwelt  the 
fourth  of  the  four  great  families,  the  Dacotas  or  Sioux,  the 
most  bitter  haters  of  the  white  missionaries,  hunters, 
traders,  home-builders,  and  nowhere  is  to  be  found  a 
stronger,  more  heroic  or  pathetic  narrative  of  colonization 
and  civilization. 


12 


INDIAN  TRADITIONS  AND  FOLKLORE 


The  Lenni  Lenape,  or  Delawares,  chose  the  country 
to  the  south  of  that  taken  by  their  ally,  a territory  border- 
ing on  the  rivers  Potomac,  Delaware,  Susquehanna  and 
Mohawk,  the  latter  called  by  them  Mahicannituck , from 
whence  came  a new  name  for  them,  Mohican , pronounced 
by  the  English  Mohegan.  Pushing  gradually  eastward, 
they  eventually  spread  over  New  England,  forming  in 
reality  the  most  numerous  and  widely  extended  of  all  the 
native  confederations,  known  to  the  English  under  the 
general  term  of  Algonkin.  Taken  singly  and  together, 
these  branches  of  red  men  occupy  a larger  place  in  our 
early  history  than  all  others.  This  was  due  largely  to  the 
fact  that  they  were  the  first  to  combat  their  prospective 
conquerors,  and  this  before  the  fire  and  ardor  of  their 
primitive  life  had  been  sapped  by  contact  with  civilization- 

These  people,  according  to  Heckewelder,  were  in 
possession  of  the  Atlantic  coast  from  Roanoke  to  Acadia. 
Their  tongue  and  that  of  the  Hurons  embraced  the 
language  spoken  over  sixteen  hundred  leagues  of  country 
and  was  understood  by  all  others  except  the  Iroquois. 
It  was,  too,  a more  fluent  tongue,  the  Mokaws  being  desti- 
tute of  labials,  while  that  of  the  Mohegans  abounded  with 
them. 

1 Whatever  may  have  been  the  origin  of  the  race  inhab- 
iting North  America  at  the  time  of  the  arrival  of  the 
Europeans,  and  however  antiquarians  may  differ  in  that 
respect,  there  is  evidence  to  show  that  the  Amerinds  pre- 
sented varying  types  of  humanity.  The  difficulty  to  estab- 
lish the  boundaries  between  these  tribes  has  led  some  to 
believe  they  sprang  from  a common  parentage.  This  con- 
dition is  due  to  the  frequent  migrations  of  different  tribes, 
to  intermarriage  and  the  utter  lack  of  any  boundary  lines. 

While  the  term  “Mohegan”  was  in  a general  sense 
applied  to  the  “original  people”  of  New  England,  at  the 
time  of  the  coming  of  the  whites,  they  possessed  distin- 
guishing attributes  in  the  several  sections,  so  that  Gookin 
makes  five  principal  nations:  The  Pequots , Marragansetts , 
Pawkunaykutts , Massachusetts,  and  Pawtukets. 


THE  CHIEF’S  VISION— MANIFEST  DESTINY 


THE  VANISHED  RACES 


The  five  confederations  above  named  comprised  at 
least  twenty-six  families,  described  in  alphabetical  order  as 
follows: 


INDIAN  TRIBES  OF  NEW  ENGLAND 

Abnakis , a name  applied  to  the  Indians  living  between 
the  Pascataqua  and  Penobscot  rivers,  and  divided  into  four 
principal  families. 

Agawams , a small  clan  living  about  Ipswich,  Mass. 

AnnasagunticooJcs , found  upon  the  Androscoggin. 

Canibas , a numerous  tribe  living  upon  the  Saghadoc, 
now  Kennebec,  River. 

Micmacs , occupying  Nova  Scotia,  sometimes  called  by 
early  writers  the  Souriquos , or  Souriquois. 

Mohegans , or  Mohicians , that  lived  in  the  country  of 
Windham,  Conn.,  and  territory  lying  to  the  north  nearly 
to  the  state  line.  They  numbered  about  3,000,  and  their 
great  chief  at  one  time,  was  Uncas.  The  Pequods  lived  on 
their  south,  the  Woguns  and  Podunks  on  their  west,  Nip- 
muncks  on  the  north,  and  Narragansetts  on  the  east.  (See 
Hubbard’s  New  England,  pages  33,  255,  408.) 

Massachusetts  occupied  Suffolk,  Norfolk,  the  easterly 
part  of  Middlesex  and  the  northerly  part  of  Essex  counties. 
They  were  numerous  atone  period,  but  seem  to  have  suf- 
fered greatly  from  the  plague  in  1617.  Their  most  noted 
chief  was  Nanepashemet,  whose  abode  was  near  the 
mouth  of  the  Mystic  River. 

Marechites , or  Armouchiquois , lived  along  the  river 
St.  John. 

Nashuas  and  JVipnets , or  Nipmucks , lived  within  the 
the  county  of  Worcester  and  about  the  ponds  of  Orford 
township.  (Hubbard’s  Indian  Wars,  page  257.)  The  Nip- 
mucks  were  subject  to  the  Mohegans. 

Narragansetts  occupied  nearly  all  of  what  is  now  the 
state  of  Massachusetts.  At  the  time  of  the  coming  of  the 
Pilgrims  at  Plymouth,  they  could  muster  5,000  fighting 
men,  had  a population  of  20,000,  and  were  superior  in  num- 


14 


INDIAN  TRADITIONS  AND  FOLKLORE 


bers  and  strength  to  any  other  tribe  in  New  England, 
except  the  Pequods.  (See  Prince,  page  46.) 

JVaticks  lived  about  what  is  now  Dedham,  Mass. 
These  were  converted  and  were  known  as  “the  praying 
Indians.”  In  1651  they  organized  into  a form  of  govern- 
ment, with  rulers  over  lots  of  fifties  and  tens.  They  sev- 
eral times  allied  themselves  with  the  English  in  the  eastern 
wars.  (Hubbard’s  New  England,  pages  652-3.) 

Nausites  dwelt  to  the  south  of  Plymouth.  The  enmity 
of  this  tribe  was  incurred  through  the  kidnapping  of  seven 
of  their  numbers  by  Hunt.  (Prince,  pages  99-100) 

N’ehanticks  lived  along  the  east  bank  of  the  Connecti- 
cut River,  on  the  site  of  the  town  of  Lyme.  Their  famous 
chief  was  Ninegret,  who  fought  the  Wampanoags  and  the 
Mohawks  in  the  conquest  of  the  Long  Island  Indians. 
(Holmes’  American  Annotations,  page  2 77.) 

Newichawannocks , on  the  upper  branches  of  the 
Pascataqua. 

Oponangos , supposed  to  have  lived  about  Passama- 
quoddy  Bay. 

Pequods , claimed  the  country  between  the  Narragan- 
setts  and  Nehanticks.  Their  central  station  and  villages 
along  the  coast  at  New  London  harbor.  They  outrivalled 
all  the  other  tribes  of  New  England  until  they  were 
destroyed  in  1638  by  the  English. 

Pewkenawkutts , or  Wampanoags , also  numerous  and 
powerful,  occupied  all  the  western  and  southern  parts  of 
the  Plymouth  colony.  Their  sachem  lived  at  Mount  Hope. 
Massasoit  was  the  first  chief  of  which  the  English  had 
knowledge.  His  successors  were  his  sons  Alexander  and 
the  famous  Philip,  the  most  noted  warrior  of  his  age. 
Massasoit  was  able  to  muster  3,000  warriors. 

Pentuckets , or  Abernenians , lived  along  the  Merrimack 
River,  with  their  capital  at  Dracut.  This  tribe  at  one  time 
contained  3,000  in  numbers. 

Pennacooks  lived  along  the  Merrimack  River  between 
the  Nashua  and  the  Pennacook  rivers,  and  numbered  about 


THE  VANISHED  RACES 


15 


3,000.  Their  most  noted  sachem  was  Passaconaway. 
This  tribe  was  quite  friendly  to  the  English  through  the 
advice  and  influence  of  the  chief  mentioned,  (i  Collection 
Massachusetts  Historical  Society,  page  180.) 

Podunks , inhabitants  of  the  region  now  included  in 
Hartford,  Conn.  (Morse’s  Geography,  page  346.) 

Seconnets , situated  at  Little  Compton,  above  Pocasset 
or  Tivertown  A noted  leader  was  a woman  known  as  the 
“Squaw  Sachem,”  who  was  a relative  of  Philip,  and  this 
tribe  generally  allied  themselves  with  the  Wampanoags. 
(Prince,  page  129.  Hubbard’s  Indian  Wars,  pages  258-9.) 

JSokokis,  who  dwelt  along  the  River  Saco  and  adjacent 
country. 

larratines , inhabitants  of  the  Penobscot,  and  were 
one  of  the  three  Etechemins  Tribes. 

Wavenocks  lived  about  Pemaquid  and  St.  George 
rivers  in  Maine,  between  the  Kennebec  and  Penobscot 
rivers. 

Wonguns , who  lived  east  of  the  Pequods  in  Connecti- 
cut, where  are  now  the  towns  of  East  Chatham  and 
Haddam. 

Four  tongues,  or  dialects,  seem  to  have  been  spoken 
by  these  various  families  and  tribes,  as  follows:  That 
spoken  by  the  Pawktlnawkutts  and  the  natives  west  of 
them,  which  is  supposed  to  have  been  the  language  of  the 
Mohegans.  Then  the  tribes  between  them  and  the 
Newichawannocks  on  the  Pascataqua,  which  have  been 
called  “Abergineans,”  or  Northern  Indians,  could  all  con- 
verse together,  though  they  could  not  sound  well  the  1 and 
r,  giving  the  sound  of  n instead.  The  Indians  east  of  the 
Pascataqua,  however,  sounded  these  letters  easily  and 
belonged  to  a different  tribe.  These  families  were  also  dis- 
tinct from  the  Micmacs  of  Nova  Scotia.  Captain  Francis, 
the  first  captain  of  the  Tarratine  tribe  on  the  Penobscot, 
an  intelligent  Indian,  told  Williamson,  author  of  the  His- 
tory of  Maine  (Vol.  I.,  page  460): 


16 


INDIAN  TRADITIONS  AND  FOLKLORE 


“All  the  tribes  between  the  Saco  and  the  Rivers  St. 
John  were  brothers.  The  eldest,  the  Sokokis,  lived  on  the 
Saco;  each  tribe,  going  eastward,  was  the  younger,  like 
the  sons  of  the  same  father,  excepting  those  on  the  Passa- 
maquoddy,  the  youngest  of  all.  I can  understand  them  all 
when  they  speak,  as  like  brothers,  but  when  the  Micmacs 
or  Algonkin  or  Canada  Indians  talk,  I cannot  understand 
what  they  say.” 

These  tribes  of  Maine  appeared  to  be  at  war  with  the 
tribes  in  New  Hampshire.  For  this  reason  largely  the 
chiefs  of  the  latter  tribes  were  encouraged  to  ally  them- 
selves with  the  English  in  order  to  cope  more  successfully 
with  their  life-long  enemies  to  the  east. 

INDIANS  OF  NEW  HAMPSHIRE. 

P'our  tribes,  as  previously  mentioned,  the  Nashuas, 
Penacooks  (Pentuckets),  Newichawannocks,  the  Squam- 
scots  a small  inland  family  at  what  is  now  Exeter,  N.  H., 
formed  a sort  of  confederacy.  In  1629-30,  the  Pentuckets, 
in  Massachusetts,  were  more  numerous  than  the  Penacooks, 
The  lodgment  of  the  Newichannocks  was  at  Cocheco,  now 
Dover.  Knolles,  or  Rowles,  was  for  many  years  their 
sachem,  and  his  dwelling-place  was  not  far  from  Quam- 
peagan  Falls,  in  what  is  now  Berwick,  and  which  was  then 
Kittery.  All  the  Indians  in  that  vicinity  were  under  him, 
though  he  was  under  Passaconaway.  He  died  about  1670^ 
not  far  from  the  death  of  the  former,  and  his  dying  mes- 
sage to  his  followers  was  somewhat  similar: 

“Being  loaded  with  years,  I had  expected  a visit  in  my 
infirmities,  especially  from  those  who  are  now  tenants  on 
the  lands  of  my  fathers.  Though  all  these  plantations  are 
of  right  my  children’s;  I am  forced  in  this  age  of  evil5 
humbly  to  request  a few  hundred  acres  of  land  to  be 
marked  out  for  them  and  recorded,  as  a public  act,  in  the 
town  books;  so  that  when  I am  gone,  they  may  not  be  per- 
ishing beggars,  in  the  pleasant  places  of  their  birth.  For 
I know  a great  war  will  shortly  break  out  between  the 


THE  VANISHED  RACES 


IT 


white  men  and  the  Indians,  over  the  whole  country.  At 
first  the  Indians  will  kill  many  and  prevail;  but  after  three 
years,  they  will  be  great  sufferers  and  finally  be  rooted  out 
and  destroyed.” 

His  successor  was  Blind  Will,  his  son;  and  that  of 
Passaconaway,  Wonalancet,  his  son. 

Historian  Potter  gives  the  following  tribes  as  ruled  in 
greater  or  less  degree  by  the  Penacooks:  Agawams,  Massa- 
chusetts, Wamesits,  Nashuas,  Souhegans,  Namoskeag, 
Winnepesuakees.  Besides  these  the  succeeding  tribes 
acknowleged  fealty  to  the  Penacook  though  not  belonging 
to  the  confederacy:  Wachusets,  Winnecowetts,  Coosucks, 
Pascataquakes,  Pequakuakes,  Sacos,  Ossipees,  Newiche- 
wannocks,  Squamscotts,  Amariscoggins. 

Northern  New  Hampshire  did  not  seem  to  have  any 
particular  tribe  settled  within  its  territory,  but  it  was  over- 
run periodically  by  the  Canadian  Indians,  among  which 
predominated  the  Hurons,  judged  by  the  traces  they  left 
in  the  traditions  handed  down  from  those  days.  Further 
glimpses  of  these  families,  as  well  as  of  the  others  in  our 
state,  will  appear  from  time  to  time,  in  the  following  tradi- 
tions, which  really  afford  the  only  accounts  we  have  of  the 
vanished  races.  ^ 

The  ruling  passions  of  the  aborigine  were  war  and  free- 
dom. If  in  peace  he  was  slothful  and  indolent,  the  war- 
whoop  transformed  him  into  another  being.  Like  all 
uneducated  people  he  then  became  a strange  compound  of 
good  and  evil.  Lescarbet,  in  his  Narrative  written  in  1609, 
told  a truth  that  later  writers  have  not  refuted: 

“If  they  (the  Indians)  do  not  know  God,  at  least  they 
do  not  blaspheme  him,  as  the  greater  number  of  Christians 
do.  Nor  do  they  understand  the  art  of  poisoning,  or  of 
corrupting  chastity  by  devilish  artifice.  There  are  no 
poor  nor  beggars  among  them.  All  are  rich,  because  all 
labor  and  live.” 

His  stealthy  step,  that  did  not  stir  a stick  on  the 
ground;  his  swift  vision,  that  did  not  fail  to  detect  the 


[8 


INDIAN  TRADITIONS  AND  FOLKLORE 


least  commotion  of  the  solitude;  the  hundred  silent  signs 
that  his  white  companion  could  not  discern,  watching  the 
wind  and  the  shadows,  the  sun  and  the  clouds,  the  mist 
upon  the  waters,  the  damp  upon  the  earth.  All  these  were 
qualities  his  pale-hued  rivals  could  not  imitate. 

A shadow  himself,  the  Amerind  believed  all  alike 
passed  to  Spirit  Land,  where  they  continued  the  pursuits 
begun  here.  “It  was  in  truth  a Land  of  Shades,  where 
trees,  flowers,  animals,  men,  and  all  things  were  spirits. 


“ By  midnight  moons,  o’er  moistening  dews, 

In  vestments  for  the  chase  arrayed, 

The  hunter  still  the  deer  pursues. 

The  hunter  and  the  deer  a shade.  ” 

Like  a child,  he  had  a mind  remarkably  acute  in  one 
direction,  while  undeveloped  in  others.  He  could  grasp 
but  one  truth,  and  that  without  any  great  abstract  reason- 
ing. He  understood  woodcraft  in  many  of  its  artifices, 
could  build  a canoe  with  skill,  make  a bow  and  arrow, 
was  singularly  adept  in  constructing  his  rude  tepee,  but  he 
never  learned  to  build  a house,  could  not  even  wield  an  ax 
with  any  cunning,  or  acquire  any  great  tact  in  the  arts  of 
civilized  life.  In  short,  he  was  not  an  imitator. 

But  he  had  two  virtues:  one,  a high  sense  of  honor! 
the  other,  a fortitude  the  most  keen  suffering  could  not 
shake.  Expression  of  pain  or  pleasure,  of  sorrow  or  happi- 
ness was  left  for  weak  women  to  indulge  in.  But  his  mani- 
festation of  rejoicing  over  a victory  won  was  followed  by 
wild  bursts  of  revelry,  or  a battle  lost  was  succeeded  by 
bitter  wailing  and  lametation. 

The  Amerind  was  a natural  story-teller.  Seeing,  as 
he  did,  an  omen  in  every  shifting  shade  of  the  clouds,  a 
sign  in  the  changing  leaf,  a token  of  beauty  or  ugliness  in 
the  different  places  of  the  wildwood,  and  no  rock  or  river, 
lake  or  mountain,  valley  or  hillside,  that  did  not  speak  of 
some  deed  of  valor,  incident  of  love  or  hatred;  these  stories 
clung  to  his  tongue  and  were  told  and  retold  to  each  sue- 


THE  VANISHED  RACES 


19 


ceeding  generation,  from  time  immemorial.  They  were 
further  kept  alive  by  a name  applied  to  the  spot  which 
should  always  hint  of  the  legend  connected  with  it.  Thus 
the  “laughing  water”  of  Minnehaha  forever  reminds  the 
beholder  of  the  tragedy  of  love  enacted  in  the  sparkling 
waterfall. 

The  Indians  told  their  tales  of  bygone  days  with 
lowered  voice  and  anxious  mien,  each  myth  fraught  with 
the  fantasy  of  nature’s  solitude  and  each  legend  bordered 
with  a fringe  of  the  silver  foam  of  superstition.  “Speak 
softly,”  warned  the  dusky  boatman  to  the  Jesuit  Father 
Albanel,  as  he  plied  the  paddles  of  the  canoe  under  the 
frowning  point  of  the  mountain,  of  Mistassini  Lake,  “or 
the  spirit  of  the  peak  will  be  angry  with  us,  send  his  storm 
gods  to  outride  our  canoe,  and  drown  us  all.”  “Close  your 
eyes  as  we  pass  under  yonder  rock,”  said  the  Ottawa,  as 
he  and  his  companions  guided  their  canoe  down  the  river, 
where  it  made  a sharp  bend  around  a sharp  angle  of  rock, 
to  the  early  whites  who  penetrated  that  region,  “or  you 
will  see  the  demon  who  guards  the  rock,  and  to  look  on 
him  is  certain  death.”  “Move  swiftly  past  yon  island,” 
advised  the  Hurons  to  Menard,  as  he  was  crossing  Lake 
Superior,  “nor  dare  to  land  on  its  enchanted  shore.  See! 
it  moves;  now  it  is  near;  now  it  is  far  away.  Now  it  van- 
ishes, and  we  must  pass  the  place  before  it  rises  again.” 
Above  island,  Michipicaten.  “Pass  not  after  nightfall, 
Tawasendeatha,”  whispered  the  Sokokis  chieftain,  “lest  you 
disturb  the  slumbers  of  the  sleeping  dead.”  In  a lighter 
spirit  Father  Rasle  was  besought  by  his  Abnaki  neophytes 
to  listen  at  nightfall,  as  they  passed  a certain  pine,  for  the 
song  of  the  lovers,  parted  and  united  by  death,  as  they 
swept  past  to  seek  their  old  trysting  place. 


'Cfje  Snbian  punter 


By  Eliza  Cook 


This  poem,  given  in  the  school  readers  of  a generation  ago,  and  set 
to  music  and  sung  by  Henry  Russell  on  his  concert  tours,  is  an  old-time 
favorite. — Editor. 


Oh,  why  does  the  white  man  follow  my  path, 

Like  the  hound  on  the  tiger’s  track? 

Does  the  flush  on  my  dark  cheek  waken  his  wrath? 
Does  he  covet  the  bow  at  my  back? 

He  has  rivers  and  seas,  where  the  billows  and  breeze 
Bear  riches  for  him  alone, 

And  the  sons  of  the  wood  never  plunge  in  the  flood 
Which  the  white  man  calls  his  own. 

Then  why  should  he  come  to  streams  where  none 
But  the  redskin  dares  to  swim? 

And  why  should  he  wrong  the  bold  hunter  one 
Who  never  did  harm  to  him? 

The  Father  above  thought  fit  to  give 
To  the  white  man  com  and  wine, 

There  are  golden  fields  where  he  may  live, 

But  the  forest  shades  are  mine. 

For  the  eagle  and  deer  have  their  place  of  rest, 

The  wild  horse  where  to  dwell, 

And  the  spirit  that  gave  to  the  bird  its  nest, 

Made  a home  for  me  as  well. 

Then  back  to  thy  home  from  the  red  man’s  track, 
For  the  hunter’s  eye  grows  dim, 

To  find  that  the  white  man  wrongs  the  one 
Who  never  did  harm  to  him. 


20 


TIIK  LAST  OF  HIS  RACK 


II 


Cfje  2?ritie  of  tfjc  l©fnte  Canoe 

A Legend  of  Amoskeag  Falls 


>%f^OU  may  never  have  heard  this  legend  of  the  Bride 
3PJ  of  the  White  Canoe;  it  may  never  have  been  told. 

In  the  storied  past  it  lingers,  and  somewhere  and 
sometime  it  will  be  told  as  I tell  it.  The  imagery  of  the  snow- 
white  bark  and  its  dusky  occupants,  pictured  in  the  midst  of 
the  waterfall  as  if  the  real  objects  had  been  caught  by  some 
mysterious  power  and  held  there  in  defiance  of  natural 
law,  is  not  to  be  seen  now.  Peradventure,  it  vanished  with 
the  appearance  of  that  new  light  which  dispelled  the 
brightness  of  the  old.  Darker  shadows  have  fled  from  our 
forests  and  rivers  witbrthe  hosts  of  yesterday,  and  the  old 
settler,  gray  with  the  gloom  of  the  wilderness,  assured  me 
that  he  had  seen  it.  With  the  silver  of  the  harvest  moon 
shimmering  upon  the  transparent  waters,  he  had  seen  and 
wondered  if  some  fairy  yet  lived  amid  these  scenes,  if  some 
daring  canoeist  of  the  race  that  had  vanished  had  risked 
his  life  in  a wild  ride  over  the  brink  and  been  punished  for 
his  folly  by  being  caught  upon  the  rocks,  or  was  it — a 
noiseless  step  by  his  side  brought  to  him  a brown-hued 
tale-bearer,  who,  as  the  daylight  deepened  into  twilight 
and  the  vision  disappeared,  told  him  this  story  of  the 
long  ago: 

It  was  when  Cyclonac  was  the  great  sachem  of  the 
Penacooks.  Then  their  sun  shone  with  noonday  bright- 
ness. The  pines  on  the  hills  overlooking  the  long  window 

21 


22 


INDIAN  TRADITIONS  AND  FOLKLORE 


of  Broken  Waters*  were  not  thicker  than  their  wigwam  s 
on  the  bluffs  of  Namaske.  Then  their  warriors  defied  the 
sons  of  the  West;  their  hunters  never  returned  from  the 
chase  empty-handed.  Their  burnt  clearings  reached  far 
and  wide,  and  their  women  tilled  great  patches  of  maize 
and  melons.  No  feasts  were  as  bountiful  as  theirs.  There 
was  no  prophet  as  renowned  as  Cyclonac;  no  princess  as 
fair  as  Winneona  of  the  White  Canoe. 

If  the  dark  corners  of  the  forest  had  their  charms,  so 
did  the  open  heart  of  Kakaashadi  call  to  the  hunter  and 
the  warrior  when  their  day’s  wild  work  was  over.  In  the 
dusky  twilight  they  came  to  spear  the  fish  that  sported  so 
abundantly  for  them  in  the  foam-fringed  flood.  Grown 
weary  of  the  common  place,  they  would  set  afloat  their 
fire-raft  on  an  autumn  night,  that  the  piercing  rays  of  their 
hundred  torches  might  burn  bright  pathways  into  the  hid- 
den caverns  of  the  forest  to  lure  from  their  sleep  into  the 
range  of  their  bows  the  wondering  denizens  of  the  wild- 
wood.  Or  it  might  be  under  the  moonlight  the  restless 
pines,  flinging  their  thousand  fingers  out  over  the  dreamy 
waters,  beckoned  them  forth  for  one  of  those  canoe  races 
for  which  they  were  noted  as  far  as  their  wampums  had 
been  carried,  east  and  west,  north  and  south.  Should  the 
evening  be  fair  and  ’twere  whispered  that  Winneona,  the 
Maid  of  the  White  Canoe,  was  to  mingle  in  the  pastime, 
then  the  water  would  be  dotted  with  canoe-men  and  the 
bank  thronged  with  spectators. 

Bind  the  grace  of  the  lily  to  the  sweetness  of  the  rose; 
the  brightness  of  the  evening  star  to  the  softness  of  the 
southern  breeze  whispering  its  secrets  to  the  poplar,  and 
you  have  found  the  sources  of  the  many  charms  of  Winne- 
ona. A maid  so  fair  and  gentle  should  have  many  lovers, 
and  Winneona  had  hers.  One  by  one  she  gave  them  the 
answer  that  leaves  the  heart  a fugitive  of  hope,  until  it 


♦Indian  name  for  the  Merrimack,  expressed  in  their  tongue  by  the 
word  Kaskaashadi. — Author. 


THE  BRIDE  OF  THE  WHITE  CANOE  23 

came  to  choosing  between  Kohass  the  Pine  and  Aurayet 
the  Sunbright.  Dark  as  the  pine  for  which  he  was 
named,  Kohass  was  known  as  a brave  hunter,  whose  nimble 
foot  had  climbed  the  Great  Hill,*  and  he  had  hurled, 
empty-handed,  from  the  brow  of  Annabesetf  the  big, 
brown  bear  that  had  killed  six  warriors  in  one  foray,  and  he 
boasted  of  having  defied  the  bitter  tempest  which  over- 
powered three  stout  braves  in  a single  night.  Aurayet  was 
like  a ray  of  sunshine,  and  there  was  no  day  so  dark  that 
he  could  not  see  the  sunshine,  no  storm  so  biting  that  he 
felt  the  arrow  of  selfishness  piercing  his  heart.  He  had 
fought  alone  the  big  war  party  of  Mohawks  under  Unca- 
noonucs’  shadows,  coming  out  of  the  fray  with  glory 
enough  for  one  warrior. 

If  Winneona  felt  any  choice  between  these-lovers,  she 
did  not  own  it,  On  dark  days,  when  the  flowers  closed 
their  bright  faces  and  the  sun  hid  its  brightness,  she  must 
have  felt  the  warm  passion  of  her  light-hearted  suitor. 
But  when  the  sunshiny  days  displayed  with  happy  effect 
the  darker  traits  of  Kohass,  then  she  admired  if  she  did 
not  love  him.  At  other  times  she  feared  him,  so  Kohass 
was  ever  with  her  in  spirit.  Fear  and  love  are  often  kin. 
So  I think  she  loved  Aurayet  and  feared  Kohass.  It  was 
this  fear  which  made  her  slow  in  giving  her  reply  to  this 
twain. 

In  this  not  uncommon  situation  for  a maid,  she  chose 
upon  a plan  which  should  decide  their  fate  and  hers.  She 
would  become  the  bride  of  him  who  could  outmatch  the 
fleetness  of  her  canoe.  Many  times  had  she  flown  like  a 
wildbird  over  the  playground  of  the  Merrimack,  flinging 
back  to  her  lovers  merry  taunts  of  victory  over  them.  It 
is  true  Aurayet  had  once  sent  back  the  laugh  against  her, 
but  this  fact  did  not  lessen  her  hopes  or  check  her  from 
giving  forth  her  bold  challenge.  ’Twere  no  serious  fear  to 
defy  such  a daring  lover. 


♦Probably  Kearsarge  Mountain. — Author . 

tThe  bluff  overlooking  the  falls  at  Hooksett. — Author. 


24 


INDIAN  TRADITIONS  AND  FOLKLORE 


So  the  message  went  abroad,  and  merry  excitement 
ran  over  the  lodgment.  ’Twere  seldom  if  ever  such  a 
challenge  had  been  given,  and  not  only  did  Kohass  and 
Aurayet  hasten  to  accept  the  challenge,  but  others  asked 
and  gained  permission  to  join  in  the  race  for  so  fair  a prize. 
So  five  were  added  to  the  twain  mentioned. 

The  trial  was  to  take  place  upon  the  favorite  race 
track  of  the  Merrimack,  above  the  thundering  falls,  and 
the  time  selected  was  the  harvest  moon,  then  near  at  hand. 
And,  while  the  rivals  began  to  prepare  for  the  great  ordeal, 
the  women  of  the  tribe  began  to  get  in  readiness  the  feast 
that  was  to  follow  the  race  and  the  marriage.  Hunters 
began  to  search  the  game  lands  for  the  best  they  could 
offer.  From  the  forest  were  brought  long  trains  of  ever- 
green and  the  frost  flowers  of  the  river  bank  with  which 
to  deck  the  bridal  train  and  the  rich  viands  of  the  festival. 

Ay,  little  can  you  penetrate  the  meaning  of  this  canoe 
race.  It  promised  to  overleap  all  other  trials  of  the  kind, 
and  there  had  been  many  in  the  moons  gone  away.  Once 
rival  chiefs  had  raced  for  life  and  death  and,  what  was 
dearer,  honor,  the  vanquished  yielding  himself  up,  without 
a murmur,  to  the  victor.  Once  a Mohawk  brave  rowed 
here  against  Nolka,  the  Penacook  giant,  with  the  promise 
of  his  freedom  if  he  overcame  him.  Never  did  Nolka  of 
the  “Magic  Paddle”  fly  over  the  water  as  he  did  on  that 
day.  He  won,  too.  But  it  was  only  because  at  the  last 
moment  the  paddle  in  the  hand  of  the  Mohawk  snapped 
like  poorly  seasoned  wood.  Then  Nolka  showed  that  the 
bravest  are  the  most  generous,  for  he  plead  so  earnestly  for 
the  brave  from  the  West  that  the  other  was  spared  his 
life. 

So  upon  the  eve  of  the  harvest  moon,  while  the  mis- 
tress of  light  climbed  in  silence  the  pathless  hills  of  the 
sky,  old  and  young  gathered  upon  the  bank  of  Kaskaas- 
hadi  to  witness  the  coming  canoe  race,  until  such  a crowd 
had  never  been  seen  upon  the  river  side.  As  the  time 
drew  near  for  the  race  to  begin,  one  after  another  of  the 


THE  BRIDE  OF  THE  WHITE  CANOE 


THE  BRIDE  OF  THE  WHITE  CANOE 


25 


rival  lovers  took  his  position.  Then  Kohass  was  seen  to 
sweep  his  canoe  into  the  center  of  the  water-way,  he  alone 
looking  confident  of  victory.  Well  he  might,  for  he 
alone  of  all  those  present  knew  that  Aurayet,  the  most 
dreaded  rival,  lay  among  the  alders  and  willows  of  Anna- 
beset,  silent  and  motionless.  Scarcely  two  hours  since  had 
he  tracked  him  down  and  sent  the  arrow  that  had  laid  him 
low.  Arrows  are  silent  messengers,  but  their  messages 
are  winged  with  death. 

Having  no  thought  of  this,  Winneona,  as  the  time 
drew  near  for  the  opening  of  the  race,  glided  into  position, 
casting  anxious  glances  hither  and  thither  as  she  looked  in 
vain  for  Aurayet.  She  was  to  have  a path  down  the 
center,  with  those  who  were  to  race  with  her  ranged  on 
either  side  according  to  the  plan  of  the  one  in  charge  of 
the  trial.  Kohass  came  nearest  upon  her  left,  while  a track 
had  been  left  for  Aurayet  upon  her  right.  Only  he  was 
lacking  to  make  the  arrangements  complete.  And  nowall 
began  to  wonder  why  he  came  not. 

The  moon  had  no  waiting  spell  for  tardy  lovers.  If 
they  came  or  went  she  sped  her  starry  flight,  making 
brighter  and  brighter  the  pathway  of  the  rival  canoeists. 
All  save  Winneona  were  impatient  to  start.  But  she, 
looking  more  beautiful  than  ever  it  seemed,  sitting  like  a 
princess  in  her  snow-white  canoe,  made  of  the  summer  bark 
of  the  birch,  and  as  transparent  as  the  moonbeams.  She 
fain  would  have  had  the  race  postponed  until  he  should  come 
or  word  of  him  be  told.  But  the  great  chief,  bribed  no  doubt 
by  Kohass,  said  he  had  had  time  to  come,  and  unless  he  did 
at  the  moment  set  he  must  be  counted  out  of  the  race.  Cast- 
ing a furtive  glance  toward  her  dark  lover,  Winneona  saw  a 
wicked  smile  lurking  about  his  mouth.  Then  the  boastful 
warrior  whispered  across  the  water: 

“Winneona  to-night  becomes  the  bride  of  Kohass.” 

Before  she  could  reply,  if  she  would,  the  great  chief 
raised  over  his  head  the  dry  pine  stick  whose  breaking  was 
to  be  the  signal  for  the  canoeists  to  start.  Then  the  sharp 


*26 


iNDiAtf  traditions  aMd  folklore 


crack  of  the  breaking  wood  had  not  fairly  rung  on  the  still 
air  when  six  canoes  shot  forward  like  arrows  from  well- 
strung  bows.  Kohass  led  the  way.  Winneona  hesitated, 
as  if  loath  to  start  without  Aurayet  there  with  a chance  to 
win.  The  cry  which  began  with  the  spectators  suddenly 
ceased  when  it  was  seen  that  she  was  likely  to  forfeit  the 
race. 

At  that  moment,  too,  though  only  a few  heard  the 
message,  Arrowleaf,  the  Fleet-Footed,  appeared  upon  the 
scene  with  the  startling  word  that  Aurayet,  the  Sunbright, 
had  been  slain  as  the  wolf  falls.  This  awoke  a yell  of 
horror. 

Possibly  mistaking  the  meaning  of  this  outburst  for 
one  of  derision  at  her  failure  to  do  her  part,  Winneona  was 
brought  back  to  a realization  of  her  situation.  Should  she 
allow  Kohass  to  win  the  race  without  an  effort  on  her  part, 
it  would  be  done  to  her  life-long  shame.  Like  a flash  of 
light  her  white  canoe  shot  over  the  moon-tinted  waters. 
In  the  twinkling  of  a star,  it  seemed,  half  of  the  rival 
canoeists  were  overtaken  and  were  swiftly  left  behind. 

The  bank  of  the  Merrimack  rang  with  the  wild  cheer- 
ing of  the  onlookers.  Every  eye  was  now  fixed  upon  that 
noble  race — the  grandest  Penacook  had  ever  looked  upon. 
Never  did  the  moon  gaze  down  upon  so  fair  a picture  of 
life  and  endeavor.  Other  waters  may  have  mirrored  her 
image  with  clearer  beauty  lines  of  silver  and  gold;  other 
forests  may  have  thrown  darker  shadows  across  her  path- 
way; but  never  had  she  looked  upon  such  a vision  of  light 
and  shade  mingled;  of  human  effort  to  win  heart  and 
honor.  The  brown  deer,  slaking  his  thirst  by  the  river- 
side, beheld  the  canoeists  with  awe,  and  while  he  watched 
and  waited  forgot  his  thirst.  The  prowling  wolf,  looking 
down  from  the  distant  crag,  checked  his  howl  of  rage  and 
looked  on  in  silence.  The  vast  throng  of  people  watching 
and  fearing,  gazed  upon  the  beautiful  sight  spellbound. 

If  Aurayet  had  failed  to  keep  his  pledge,  it  only  made 
Winneona  more  earnest  to  win.  Kohass’  evil  smile  had 


THE  BRIDE  OF  THE  WHITE  CANOE 


2? 


kindled  the  fear  of  her  heart  into  hatred.  Sooner  than 
keep  his  wigwam  would  she  become  the  death-bride  of 
Namaske.  With  this  stern  thought  in  her  mind  she  gave 
all  her  skill,  all  her  strength,  all  her  will,  to  winning  the 
race.  Her  white  canoe  flew  over  the  water  like  a wild 
bird,  the  paddles,  lighter  than  feathers  in  her  hands,  lend- 
ing it  wings.  Now  the  first,  then  the  second,  the 
third,  fourth,  fifth  of  the  champions  were  passed,  and  only 
Kohass,  the  Pine  led,  fighting  the  great  battle  of  his  life, 
throwing  all  of  the  skill  of  his  hands,  energy  of  his  arms 
and  ambition  of  his  heart  into  this  grand  struggle  with 
the  Maid  of  the  White  Canoe.  Side  by  side  the  twain, 
maid  and  warrior,  sped  down  the  moonlit  way. 

Soon  it  was  seen  by  the  anxious  watchers  that  Winne- 
ona  was  beginning  to  gain  upon  her  rival.  The  difference 
was  yet  slight — so  slight  that  the  onlookers  dared  not 
cheer. 

In  the  midst  of  the  great  silence,  which  hung  like 
invisible  curtains  over  the  scene,  Winneona  gained  a hand’s 
span  upon  her  dark  rival.  The  onlookers  saw  this  with 
wild  joy,  and  their  delight  was  beginning  to  find  expression 
in  shouts  of  gladness,  when  suddenly  the  entire  aspect  of 
the  race  was  changed.  Sweeping  down  the  course  like  the 
white-winged  winds  of  winter,  a canoeist  sped  upon  the 
pathway  of  the  fleeing  maid  and  warrior.  The  throng  of 
people  on  the  river  bank  saw  him,  and  the  murmur  of  joy 
upon  their  lips  changed  to  a wild  outburst  of  wonder  and 
exultation, — a thunderous  applause  that  rang  above  the 
roar  of  old  Namaske,  a prolonged  cry  that  was  heard  that 
night  a deer  flight  away.  Never,  it  is  said,  not  even  when 
Connepokum  won  his  matchless  victory  over  the  Tarra- 
tines  did  the  river  and  forest  ring  with  such  cries.  They 
were  so  mighty  and  overpowering  that  the  canoeists 
glanced  back  to  see  what  was  meant. 

Winneona  saw  with  pulsing  heart  Aurayet  coming 
swiftly  upon  her  path  and  a wild  feeling  of  gladness  came 
into  her  soul. 


28 


INDIAN  TRADITIONS  AND  FOLKLORE 


Kohass  saw  the  rival  lover  that  he  had  slain  sitting 
erect  in  his  boat,  his  hands  grasping  his  strong  paddle 
without  dipping  or  raising  it,  while  he  was  carried  on  by 
some  strange  power  with  the  fleet  ness  of  the  wind.  Know- 
ing that  it  was  the  spirit  of  Aurayet  that  had  joined  in  the 
race,  he  uttered  a cry  of  terror  and  toppled  back  into  the 
water,  leaving  his  canoe  to  be  caught  a moment  later  in 
the  gathering  eddys  of  the  waterfall. 

If  Winneona  saw  the  sudden  fate  of  Kohass  no  one 
knew.  She  was  seen  to  hesitate  for  a moment  in  her 
earnest  work,  though  the  thunder  of  the  falls  was  begin- 
ning to  ring  in  her  ears.  And  then,  while  all  the  others 
looked  on  with  wonder  rising  to  horror,  the  phantom 
canoeist  glided  alongside  of  the  white  canoe  with  its 
amazed  occupant;  he  reached  out  an  arm  and  lifted  her 
into  his  canoe.  And,  holding  her  close-locked  in  his 
embrace,  they  were  borne  on  toward  the  brink  of  the 
broken  waters.  The  warning  cry  the  onlookers  would  fain 
have  uttered  froze  upon  their  lips.  Speechless,  motionless, 
helpless  to  save  them,  they  saw  the  twain  carried  nearer 
and  nearer  the  brink  until  they  disappeared  in  the  mist  and 
foam  of  the  raging  waters.  And  as  this  startling  action 
was  going  on  the  notes  of  a war-song  rose  above  the 
thunder  of  the  river — the  paean  so  often  sung  in  the  hey- 
day of  his  victories  by  Aurayet  the  Dauntless. 

So  the  wedding  feast  was  never  touched,  and  with 
anxious  forebodings  the  Penacooks  waited  until  daylight 
that  they  might  look  for  the  mangled  bodies  of  the  lovers. 
These  were  never  found,  and  it  was  known  that  Winneona 
had  gone  to  spiritland  to  live  evermore  with  her  faithful 
Aurayet.  It  was  said  in  after  years  that,  with  the  harvest 
moon  shining  clear  in  the  sky,  upon  that  particular  hour  of 
of  night,  the  outlines  of  the  falling  canoe  and  its  passen- 
gers, as  they  shot  over  the  brink,  could  be  seen  pictured 
in  the  swinging  spray  of  the  falling  waters.  That  is  all 
that  has  been  told  of  the  Bride  of  the  White  Canoe. 


HOW  OF  THE  RIVEN  OAK 


^fje  <©ncf)anteb  25oto 


A Legend  of  the  Suncook 


“Beneath  this  giant  oak, 
Where  oft  the  dusky  wooer  met  his  love.’ 


w 


HERE  now  the  stubborn  plowshare  finds  its  way 
along  the  sloping  side  of  one  of  our  fair  hills, 
not  many  arrows’  flight  from  the  valley  of  the 
Suncook,  stood  a mighty  oak  in  days  gone  by,  in  the  pride 
and  the  glory  of  its  ancient  years.  Many  a strange  tale 
could  this  wildwood  monarch  have  unfolded  to  the  paleface 
sons  when  they  came,  had  they  known  its  language  and 
listened  to  its  many  tongues.  But  they  passed  it  unheeded 
by  and  its  secrets  remained  locked  in  its  leafy  bosom,  save 
for  those  confessions  which,  from  time  to  time,  it  had  whis- 
pered to  the  maple  and  birch,  which,  nodding  to  one 
another,  passed  the  gossip  to  the  beech,  and  the  beech  to 
the  hazel,  and  the  hazel  to  the  alder  and  willow,  these  in 
turn  imparting  them  to  the  singing  river,  which  retold 
them  in  fresh  songs,  so  they  all  came  to  the  ears  of  the  red 
men  that  dwelt  along  the  silver  river.* 

Under  its  inviting  shade  at  noonday  the  wild  deer  had 
loved  to  lie,  finding  restful  solace  from  its  distant  wander- 
ings, and  at  nightfall  the  stealthy  panther  had  sought  the 
protection  of  its  powerful  arms  for  a brief  respite  in  its 
nocturnal  raids.  Beneath  one  of  its  gnarled  roots  the 
timid  fox  had  made  its  home,  unfearing  and  unmolested. 


*The  Delaware  Indians  had  a legend  which  resembled  this  somewhat, 
while  it  was  told  by  the  Penacooks  in  other  forms.  Some  said  the  fox  was 
the  spirit  of  evil  instead  of  that  of  the  warrior’s  father.  Still  others 
believed  it  was  the  raith  of  the  Great  Spirit. — Author. 

29 


30 


THE  ENCHANTED  BOW 


Among  its  lofty  coppices  the  forest  songster  had  built  its 
nest,  making  the  wilderness  resound  with  its  musical  notes. 
And  here  the  red  man  built  his  council  fires  and  awoke  the 
silence  with  his  war  songs  and  scenes  of  mimic  battles. 
Here  twice  within  its  memory  had  the  dusky  foes  met  in 
terrific  conflict,  the  twang  of  the  bows,  the  sighing  of 
arrows  and  the  thud  of  stone  hatchets  dulled  by  the  defiant 
death  cries  of  the  bravest  of  the  brave,  as  the  contending 
foes  fought  to  the  bitter  end  of  death.  In  the  sunlight  of 
brighter  years  the  Indian  maiden  had  here  her  tryst  with 
her  dusky  lover  and  plighted  the  troth  of  love  unto  the 
end.  It  was  then  the  old  oak  unbended  its  sterner  self 
and  looked  softly  down  on  maid  and  warrior  in  the  gentle 
twilight,  for  afar  back  in  the  dawn  of  more  than  four  cen- 
times of  life,  when  its  own  form  had  none  of  its  present 
gnarled  appearance,  but  when  it  uplifted  its  head  with  the 
erectness  and  suppleness  of  the  young  pine,  it  remembered 
a companion  that  relieved  its  loneliness  and  touched  its 
heart  with  the  tender  glow  of  sympathetic  harmony.  But 
many  generations  of  the  kindred  of  the  wild  deer,  the 
prowling  panther,  the  timid  fox,  the  merry  wildbird,  the 
warlike  red  man,  the  trustful  maiden  and  her  lover,  have 
come  and  passed  away,  aye,  even  the  young  oak,  with  its 
promise  of  long  years  and  lasting  beauty,  succumbed  to 
the  wintry  blasts  of  this  northern  clime.  Thus  the  mon- 
arch stood  lonely  in  its  years. 

At  last  the  mighty  oak,  which  had  defied  so  many 
times  the  tempest  as  it  groaned  over  the  plains  or  hung 
from  the  rocky  towers  of  the  everlasting  hills,  read  in  the 
lightning  scrolls  of  the  leaden-hued  sky  its  doom.  That 
very  day  it  had  witnessed  the  last  tryst  of  Lewana,  the 
proud  Penacook  brave,  and  his  adored  Clematis  without 
unbending  its  iron  arms  or  touching  their  brows  with  its 
leafy  fingers.  It  had  no  sympathy  with  the  boastful  brave 
who  constantly  vaunted  his  war-like  deeds  and  who  sought 
to  win  his  bride  with  war  songs  rather  than  by  lover’s  art- 
ful ways.  Clematis  did  not  look  with  favor  on  her  fiery 
wooer,  and  the  oak  always  was  the  maiden’s  friend. 


A LEGEND  OF  THE  SUNCOOK 


31 


Not  many  hours  since  Lewana  breathed  his  passionate 
vows  and  turned  away  from  the  spot  when  dark  clouds 
rolled  over  the  face  of  the  sun  and  deep  mutterings  were 
wafted  on  the  wind,  while  a thousand  arrows  of  lightning 
darted  from  the  Great  Spirit’s  storm  bow.  Deeper  grew  the 
inky  mass  overhead,  louder  the  peal  on  peal  of  thunder, 
and  sharper  the  flying  shafts  of  lightning.  The  stout  old 
oak  shook,  its  arms  clasped  and  unclasped  and  smote  each 
other,  until,  a brighter  flash  lighting  for  an  instant  its 
grand  form,  the  monarch  stood  a shattered  wreck. 

As  quickly  as  it  had  risen  the  storm  cleared  away  and, 
as  if  satisfied  with  its  work,  a peaceful  smile  rested  on  the 
landscape,  which  had  been  robbed  of  its  noblest  figure. 
Soon  Lewana  passed  that  way  to  note  with  a warror’s 
surprise  the  wreck  of  the  oak.  Then  as  his  clear  eye 
glanced  at  the  scattered  fragments  of  bark  and  splintered 
branches  he  uttered  a grunt  of  amazement.  Half  buried 
in  a heap  of  the  litter  he  saw  a beautifully  carved  bow, 
such  as  the  most  skilled  hand  in  his  tribe  had  never 
wrought. 

Not  without  some  dread  he  stooped  and  picked  it  up, 
joyed  to  find  that  it  did  not  slip  away  from  him  or  resent 
his  touch.  He  found  it  to  be  the  smoothest  bow  he  had 
ever  seen,  and  its  string  gave  the  sharpest  twang  he  had 
ever  heard. 

Elated  over  his  prize  he  hastened  home  to  show  it  to 
his  brother  braves  and  to  the  gray-headed  chieftain  with  the 
wisdom  of  near  a hundred  years.  This  sage  gravely  shook 
his  head,  saying: 

“ ’Tis  not  for  thee,  my  son.  Take  it  back  whence 
thou  didst  find  it,  lest  thou  anger  those  who  bore  it  through 
the  storm  raging  over  hill  and  vale.  It  is  plainly  the 
weapon  of  those  spirits  who  roam  unseen  our  hunting 
grounds.” 

But  Lewana  was  loath  to  give  up  thus  his  treasure, 
and  he  decided  to  fit  at  least  one  arrow  to  the  bow  before 
he  did  so.  “Surely  that  will  be  time  enough  to  return  it  to 
the  riven  oak,”  he  thought. 


32 


THE  ENCHANTED  BOW 


So  the  next  day  Lewana  tried  his  new  bow  and 
though,  perchance,  his  hand  trembled  when  he  used  it, 
the  arrow  went  straight  to  the  mark.  Once  he  had  tried 
the  wonderful  bow  he  was  more  and  more  loath  to  part 
with  it.  Whatsoe’er  the  distance,  howsoe’er  his  aim,  the 
marvelous  bow  never  failed  to  send  the  arrow  to  the  heart 
of  the  target. 

“Surely,”  thought  Lewana,  “those  who  fly  in  trains 
the  track  of  storm  have  given  me  this  to  win  yet  greater 
renown.  I will  keep  it  and  show  them  that  I am  worthy 
of  their  trust.  It  will  help  me  win  Clematis,  for  no  hunter 
can  now  hope  to  match  Lewana,  the  long-eyed.” 

So  he  kept  the  bow  of  the  lightning  riven  oak,  and 
with  each  certain  twang  he  grew  famous  as  a hunter  and 
vaunted  louder  than  ever  of  his  prowess.  From  the  deer 
ground  of  old  Pawtuckaway  to  the  haunts  of  the  bear 
under  Moosehillock,  from  the  lair  of  the  panther  in  the 
caverns  of  Cyciasoga  to  the  foxland  of  the  Uncanoonucs 
his  fame  extended  as  a hunter,  while  he  grew  in  importance 
among  the  wise  men  of  his  tribe,  so  that  he  was  admitted 
to  their  councils.  His  companions  grew  to  fear  him,  and 
none  dared  to  cross  his  will,  for  his  aim  never  failed,  his 
arrow  never  missed  its  mark. 

In  new  vain-glory  he  renewed  his  suit  of  Clematis, 
confident  now  that  she  would  no  longer  say  him  nay.  To 
his  angry  wonder  she  was  more  obdurate  than  ever.  If 
she  had  disliked  him  before  she  hated  him  now. 

In  the  rage  of  his  disappointment  he  vowed  that  she 
should  be  his,  willing  or  not  willing,  and  with  the  threat  on 
his  lips  he  went  to  join  the  great  fall  hunt  to  start  that 
day.  Telling  his  companions  that  the  most  required  of 
them  would  be  to  bring  home  the  game  he  should  slay  with 
his  bow  of  the  riven  oak,  he  proudly  led  them  on  their 
long  march. 

On  the  second  day  one  of  the  dusky  hunters  started  a 
silver  fox  which  not  only  escaped  his  arrow  but  eluded  it 
with  an  ease  which  provoked  him.  Then  another  brave 


A LEGEND  OF  THE  SUNCOOK 


33 


saw  and  lost  the  wary  creature,  and  then  a third,  and  a 
fourth,  a fifth,  aye,  every  hunter  save  Lewana  met  and 
missed  the  cunning  fox — the  handsomest  they  had  ever 
seen  of  its  kind. 

“Let  me  get  my  long  eye  on  the  silver  fox  and  his 
skin  shall  be  the  grandest  trophy  of  the  chase  for  me,” 
said  Lewana.  “And  my  triumph  will  be  all  the  greater 
that  the  rest  of  you  have  been  dishonored  by  him.” 

His  companions  shook  their  heads,  one  of  them 
saying: 

“He  is  no  mortal  fox!  Beware  of  him,  lest  he  bring 
you  much  evil.” 

Lewana  laughed  at  his  more  cautious  friend,  and  even 
as  he  did  so,  lo!  the  wonderful  creature  bounded  right 
across  his  pathway.  Then  began  the  wildest  chase  ever 
witnessed  in  the  wildwoods  of  the  Land  of  Granite  Hills. 
All  daylong,  now  dodging  to  the  right,  anon  darting  to  the 
left,  in  sight  now,  gone  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye,  bound- 
ing through  the  dense  swamp  where  even  Lewana  of  the 
long  eye  was  obliged  to  pass  around,  always  luring  his  pur- 
suer on  but  ever  eluding  him,  the  silver  fox  maintained  the 
race. 

Angry  that  he  should  be  baffled  at  every  turn,  Lewana 
followed  until  at  last  a small  opening  in  the  woodland  was 
reached,  and  to  the  dusky  hunter’s  joy  he  saw  that  the 
silver  fox,  as  if  unable  to  go  farther,  had  stopped  at  the 
foot  of  a big  tree.  Failing  to  notice  in  his  excitement  that 
the  hunted  creature  had  paused  beside  the  riven  oak,  the 
now  exultant  warrior  fitted  an  arrow  to  his  charmed  bow 
and  let  fly  his  winged  shaft. 

To  his  dismay  the  string  gave  back  no  twang,  though 
the  arrow  flew  on  its  way,  striking  the  tree  with  a dull 
thud,  causing  the  dry  branches  of  the  oak  to  smite  them- 
selves together  in  a wild  manner.  The  fox?  He  suddenly 
vanished,  and  in  this  space  stood  the  white  wraith  of 
Lewana’s  father. 

Finding  that  their  companion  did  not  return  from  the 
chase,  his  friends  searched  for  him  until  they  found  his 


34 


THE  ENCHANTED  BOW 


lifeless  body  under  the  riven  oak,  which  now  stood  stark 
and  stern.  And  they  made  a grave  for  Lewana  near  by, 
and  placed  beside  him  his  sheaf  of  arrows,  but  with  no 
bow.  Neither  was  any  sapling  planted  above  his  lonely 
mound,  for  none  had  the  hardihood  to  do  it,  so  the  vanity 
of  this  life  carried  a curse  for  Lewana  into  the  next.  This 
is  the  story  an  old  chieftain  told  under  the  dead  oak  to  the 
first  white  man  who  found  his  footsteps  turned  in  that 
direction. 


§ (Barrow1). 


' Jrc  rATHLesf  r°rcfTj  know  nice  n°t. 
f4=rr  ravnr  wneitc  tny  can°e  /TPArcb 
Jrc  roNbir  wnitc  PCAcn  pcai rr  n°t  tut  tpack. 
|T/  WATCIT/  PEEL  N°  rAbbLE-PLAbC. 


Si- 


Thy  /eatchle//  race  have  l°ng  peem  qome®»S-^ 

THy  RATH/  ARE  TR°b  PT  OTHER/-  N°W;  “ 
pRQ°TTEM  ARE  THY  VAUAMT  bEED/  cgfe-3 
yAbb  0'ER  THY  QRAVE  TEE  WILb-RLWERf 


+-Ug 


||Tee  deer  /till  r°ve  tee  LEARY  w°°b.r. 

JKe  L°°N  /TILL  CRIE/  ACR0//  TEE  LAKE, 
"j"EE.  PEAR  /TILL  H°LD/  IT/  bEH  UH/CAREb. 
yAhb  WILb-RoWL/  REEL  AAMb  TEE  PRAKE. 


/ 


JpE  bEADLT  MATCNCT  PUftlEb  LICX 

|XT  |-f0PR°R.T  THRILL  li°  -TETTLER1T  PEEAXT 
"ff\C  WAR-CLUPX  bEEbX  °P  PL°°b  APE  b°NC 
]rE  TWAMQinQ  P°«/-J'TPINQ  IT  AT  RE/T. 


.rws s 


Jmr  camp-pipe  /a°ke  m°  l°pqee  cuklx 

fllb  PPANCI1E/  CRCEN  °P  TALL  TIME  TPEEXi 
po  WIQWAA  ^TAMbX  AP°VE  TKE  PANK . 
fl°  C°ENriELbX  P°W  PEP°RE  TRE  PREEZE. 


^3 ’22 


J)TILL  n°UNTAINf  T°WER  °N  EITHER  HANb, 
y\fiCs  NEAR  TR£  WINblNQ  RIVER  fWEEF/ 
JTILL  fTANbf  TRC  CLIFF  AM°NQ  TRE  FINE/ 
y/\  Nb  °'ER  TRE  EL  AIN  A WATCH  IT  KEEF/. 


T /CAN/  TRE  WE/T.  IF  TN°U  ART  THERE 
y\Nb  IF  TW°ULb  Fib  THEE  PACK  °NCE  A°RE: 
j^UT  HUNTINQ-GR°UNbf  N°W  H°Lb  TNEE  FLEfT. 
"|RE  INblAN/  bAT  °F  FAME  If  °ER. 


DATE  DUE 


y y o 

npn  1 7 

1997 

nil 

? 1 2003 

IAY  1 n 

'D07 

UNIVERSITY  PRODUCTS,  INC.  #859-5503 


NGV23*22 


